Eclipsed
by Meriah
Summary: A young woman named Sutichay carries Arei, a miraculous child, whose birth will bring about a religious conflict. Later in the chaos, Arei is made the priestess of Mewtwo, and her growing attraction to him stirs the anger of Sabrina, his wife. ON HIATUS.
1. Have Mercy for the Defiled

**Disclaimer: **"Pokémon" is copyright of Satoshi Tajiri, Nintendo, Creatures, GAME FREAK, TV Tokyo, ShoPro, Jr Kikaku, and Shogakukan Production Co, Ltd. However, some of the characters in this fanfic are mine. If you steal Arei, I'll have you watch two Bellsprouts get intimate while Lucario (wearing binoculars) and Kenji/Tracy (with his trusty sketchpad) watch from behind the ferns. AND THAT'S AN INSIDE JOKE. DON'T ASK.

Dragon Sword and Wind Child, which inspired some elements in this fanfic, is property of Noriko Ogiwara.

**Important note to my readers:**__Eclipsed is the same thing as the _original version_ of A Break Into the Psyche. I changed the title so it is more suitable for the fanfic.

**Meriah's Notes:**

Well, here it is. Presented before you is my final attempt at my fanfiction idea which has lingered in my mind since 2000 (1999?). This is unlike everything I've ever written, and is my distinctive contribution to the Pokémon fanfiction community. If there is one story I would like to be known for, let it be this.

Before moving onto the summary (next section) there are some notes I should address:

- WiseAbsol (as she is known here at FFNet) has received my permission to use my character, Arei, in her fanfic Hollow. However, please do not assume that our fics are the same but simply written by two different authors. They have overlapping elements, but overall are dissimilar. Besides, you should read her version anyway because it is artistically written and is fascinating.

- The muse for Eclipsed comes from the beautiful Japanese novel Dragon Sword and Wind Child by Noriko Ogiwara. I must confess that this fic is influenced by Ogiwara's masterpiece, _but_ I have made sure that the majority of ideas are from my own imagination.

- Eclipsed is rated T for many reasons. Please do not read further if mature themes easily upset you.

Now… may I present to you Eclipsed.

* * *

**PART ONE: PERIHELION**

per-i-he-li-on:

"Astronomy. the point in the orbit of a planet… at which it is nearest to the sun." ()

_For many are the pleasant forms which exist in numerous sins, _

_and incontinences, _

_and disgraceful passions, _

_and fleeting pleasures, _

_which men embrace until they become sober _

_and go up to their resting place. _

_And they will find me there, _

_and they will live, _

_and they will not die again._

The Shrine of Mew. It was this by which the sanctuary was known, but never spoken aloud by anyone due to the sheer power the name held. Illustrated upon a canvas of jungle against sky since the dawn of civilization, it seemed to vibrate with the essence of life from the Lady herself.

An aura of tranquility caressed the proximity. Priests sought this in their prayers, meditations, and in their cleansing of impure matter. Pilgrims, some having traveled immeasurable distances, fell upon the hallowed soil of the place to ask for blessings. They had come for fertility, bountiful crops, health, and the continual promise of everlasting life.

In later times no one could determine who made the shrine anymore than they could understand its people. Perhaps it had always been there only to eventually be forgotten behind a labyrinth of vines and cobwebs. Historians and anthropologists, sickened with questions of this unexplainable lost society, assumed them to be linked to other South American tribes. Perhaps they were people who broke away from larger clans, and yet the information did not calculate. They seemed far more ancient, from an era when humanity and nature were one, just as folklore had described.

Why had they vanished without records? Why did they exclusively venerate the Lady of Light?

They were basic people, yes, as basic as any other. They depended on one another through the necessities of the harvest and the hunt; the knowledge of the experienced; the chilling promise of death cast away whenever a mother looked upon the child at her breast. All mornings, in cultivated fields kissed with dew, they spread their arms to greet the sun. All evenings, as the eternal golden disk sank below a brilliant skyline, they gave thanks before retiring to their homes.

A basic people, yes… but primordial. They were astonishing in their wisdom -- one so profound it went beyond the subterranean depths of the psyche. Out of the range of the mind and body, harbored somewhere within the soul, was the capability to view existence from an elevated field: To consider fantasy synonymous with reality; to know the arcane; to feel the waves of life.

All humans - in fact, all living things - had this ability. But only mankind had lost it to their vanity. Only they, as lords of the earth, became enslaved to delusions of arrogance.

At that time, before their clan was lost to the red-stained blades of enemies, there was a shadow of a woman. The limestone corridors would have concealed her identity if not for the flickering of torchlight. Somehow there was silence as she dashed further into the temple, never falling victim to a trap or to wasted time. One could have assumed she had a clear destination.

A chamber lead to a stairway. Unlike the stairs presented at the entrance -- which the individual found difficulty in trespassing -- this one was unguarded. Even more bizarre, it lead not to a holy of holies as could be suspected. Rather, it was washed in the light of the sun pouring through from the veranda above. As the woman ascended the steps, each closer to the company of divinity, her hands caressed the engravings in the walls. Represented in three segments, they grew in importance: The bottom celebrating the efficiency of domesticated Pokémon, the middle acknowledging ones too powerful for usage due to strength or evolution, and the top honoring the gods themselves.

Yet the segment with the gods was the most spectacular. They were not clustered but individualized or made into smaller groups to represent their various facets. Again a hierarchy was presented, starting with the modest to lead to the supreme. The woman was unsurprised to find the golem trio - Regirock, Regice and Registeel - considered to be the least significant. However, their gift to humanity was greatly respected, for through them man learned to advance through the Stone, Ice and Bronze Ages.

Yes, all of the gods were remembered here, even the Original One who could never be addressed by His name. These people, who were called the Followers of Light (the worshippers of Mew) realized He could rival or even transcend their favored deity.

Then it dawned upon the woman that there was nothing to represent the Goddess. Her eyes looked about in all directions, as if desperate to find _something, anything_… only for her hope to turn dark.

With her foot off the final step she reached the veranda. A collection of polished stones lined the exterior with maintained paths voyaging forth to the center. Joined alongside these paths was lush vegetation; every species known by the woman plus countless more. It was paradise, indeed too glorious to be earthly.

With the air thick of blossoms and fruit, she sauntered down a pathway to reach the center. Before her water flowed through a channel constructed of jade to surround an altar.

There was nothing on the altar. No libations, no gifts… no, nothing at all.

It was then she comprehended the symbolism of this sanctuary. A small gasp escaped from her lips as she was overwhelmed by the simple yet profound meaning of this design: A circle; the Sun. She recalled the stairs had spiraled as she climbed them, and her gaze fell upon the round exterior once again. Only the gardens and paths went against this law, but not necessarily, for they lead to the circular channel which sheltered the altar.

For the darkness of the building to yield to the light of the veranda made sense now. This hallowed ground was bathed by the golden rays of the day.

In addition to all of this were large vertical incisions in the walls. Prior to then her stare ignored them until the deepest chamber of her soul clarified their significance: The sunlight poured through them on the summer solstice for a journey to the altar.

Thus, of course nothing would be presented upon the altar. The shrine itself commemorated Mew as the Mother of All. No blood would cascade from its sides to defile the water below, nor would plants be abandoned to wither. Mew as the Mother was her most significant aspect; any offerings would be sacrilegious.

Desperation is intoxicating as ambrosia, yet as menacing like poison. She came to that place for a reason, unaware that her sins sullied the very earth below her as if she were snow giving way to springtime flooding.

But she was there for a reason and this was the only opportunity. Before her was the altar to Mew -- the most sacred object in all of the shrine. Astonishingly, it was not impressive like the other objects. Rather, it was simply a slab of common gray stone. No engravings, no jewels, not even tools to assist in prayers. Nothing at all. In fact the only interesting thing about it was the canal of water that encircled it at the bottom.

_Watch where you step, woman, for you are in the abode of the Queen of Eternity, the Lady._

The unforeseen voice startled her. Airy, magical and yet intimidating, it clearly did not flow from a typical person. With the speed of a feral dog she rotated to face the entity which had addressed her.

It was not human.

_Back away from the altar. Your presence pollutes this holy place. _

She moved. Her action was cautious and instinctual as if she was a deer before the barrel of a hunter's gun. She even made sure her attire did not meet the water embracing the altar.

As if not to offend the enigma, her gaze fell upon the pathway beneath her. All mortals, especially one as lowly as herself, were unworthy of setting their eyes on a god. Her lips parted to gesture if she could speak.

_Yes, you may. Provide a brief answer; I have greater matters than to converse with you._

The rudeness stabbed her. It was hotter than burning coals, and she knew the deity would delight in insulting her further.

Her mouth was dry. With her stare still at the ground, she managed to utter "I…"

_Did I once state for you to look away? Look at me._

Its voice - which the human realized was telepathy - was soft for a fleeting moment. Reluctantly and with a slow pace she gave in to its command, as if terrified it would change its mind.

Levitating above the ground where she previously traversed was a small yellow and pale blue creature. It had two tails both adorned with valuable jewels, yet the jewels could not compete with the grand one on its head. Bizarrely, it somehow acknowledged her presence although its eyes were shut.

_Speak! _It ordered.

She found the willpower to be assertive. "Revered God of Knowledge," she began, hoping using his title would soothe remaining anger, "I cannot understand why you are allowing me to look up."

_My eyes are closed, woman, but do not assume I cannot see you. I sensed your aura long before your steps reached this shine. _The pixie floated closer. _That said, you should realize I am not a menacing god. Also, from here forth refrain from addressing me as "revered." Your people do not worship me._

His voice was composed now; still powerful, but smooth. _Do not think this would apply to other gods. Such a belief is foolish. There are gods far greater than my brother, sister and I. _

"I see…"

_No, it appears you do not. _Although the comment seemed icy, it was truly a gentle correction. _My siblings and I were created to bestow humanity with the gifts of knowledge, emotion and will. We are not the raw forces of nature; rather, we are the embodiments of advancement for higher living. _

There was a pause. The women realized it was her turn to talk. Now that the creature was calmer, conversation came freely.

"I have come here to pray."

_I gathered that. _His tone was harsh again. _Everything, from the soil on your shoes to your livelihood, is bathed in sin._

Then as unpredictable as the second past, compassion entered. It was a new voice laced with tenderness. _Uxie, you should know better than to be pestering this poor person._

He countered, _Perhaps you, dear sister, should realize some matters are best left for myself. Did you think I would kill the person? Such an intention would never flow through me. I am indifferent for the most part._

The female - who was Mesprit - ended the debate with, _We will continue this at another time._

The magenta goddess floated in the direction of the human. She noted with a hint of merriment, _He forgot to add that my siblings and I exist for more than just, quote, "advancement for higher living." Father created us chiefly with the intention that humans could seek from us guidance, virtue and understanding. _Mesprit allowed the woman to process this before continuing. She then said, _You see, we are meant to be the helpers of mankind._

"Helpers?" Said the woman with confusion. She was already aware that deities assisted humanity when needed, however she did not know some existed solely for this purpose.

_Yes, we--_

_Are you changing the subject?_ Uxie interrupted.

Mesprit turned to him and noted: _No. My aim is to comfort her. Being the Goddess of Emotions, this is a task for only me, no offense._

_She is a whore, that is all you need to know. _

Again, a statement from Uxie slit through the woman like the sharpest dagger. He was right - she was a whore! That was why she journeyed here; why she wished to be purified.

Mesprit gawked at Uxie with a mix of shock and disgust. _You have no right to be so indifferent to her! That in itself is your downfall -- empathy is dry in your veins. You cannot feel. _

No response came from Uxie. He was not ashamed or defeated, but rather he felt arguing with Mesprit would be insensible. Once she started, it took hours for her to quiet down. Adding fuel to the fire would be a mistake.

_I was well aware of her sin, _Mesprit said. _I felt it. I felt the humiliation, the pain, all of it… But remember this, brother: Here is a woman who desires to change. _

He failed to oppose. Instead he said, _Do not let Azelf know about this._

_Oh, why would I? _She giggled. _He would lecture the woman for not having more will and valor. We know how he is. But anyway…_

Nothing could define the disgrace pulsating from the woman. "Please, I should go."

_Do not feel embarrassed by us knowing. We are gods. We simply know these things,_ Mesprit said in a tone rich with warmth. _I can assure you no one from your clan is aware that you are with child. That is why you are here -- to ask the Mother for her blessing because such is indeed her supreme facet._

"Exactly," she whispered.

Mesprit gestured at the altar. Then against Uxie's command she told the woman to cleanse herself. _You are a sinner, yet as are all of your kind. However, the Mother's eternal mercy will bathe you in protection for yourself and your child. So purify yourself, young one._

Believing her to be correct, the woman walked to the altar. She then kneeled down to cup the water from the channel in her hands and poured it over herself, allowing it to stream down like a thousand tears. She sought comfort in the liquid, for somehow the reflection staring back at her was not her own but that of the child she would bring into the world. It was a magnificent sight.

"I don't understand this…"

_But you do._

And she did. She realized this water was unlike any other. It was a vision of the future rather than a literal reflection. Of course! The Mother was abundant with psychic energy, so certainly the holy water of her shrine would gleam with her glorious power.

The illustration in the water foretold her of what would transpire: She was only a few weeks along in her pregnancy as of now, but her condition could not be kept secret forever. Once her stomach grew larger she would be stigmatized for carrying a child out-of-wedlock. Yet before the first stone could be cast at her by the villagers, the sunshine would break through the dark clouds to cloak her in blinding white light. This was a sign of forgiveness from the Mother.

The woman set her head against the altar. She was overcome with a myriad of emotions and let out a well-needed cry. She was not sad… no, not anything negative. She was relieved, joyous, grateful, harmonious. For the first time since learning of her situation she truly felt safe for the child cradled within her.

_The altar should never be touched by a whore,_ Uxie retaliated.

_Who are you to decide?_ His sister snapped.

_Never before has a defiled woman been allowed to touch the altar. In fact, the water turns murky even as one steps foot into the veranda. You are insulting the Mother by allowing this exception._

_This is not my decision at all, brother,_ Mesprit corrected. _For one so wise, sometimes it seems I know more than you. _

Mesprit gazed at the woman as she continued speaking to Uxie. _I cannot determine Mew's thoughts…_

The woman's eyes widened at the mere mention of addressing the Mother by her genuine name. The priestly class could never call her Mew, and it was said that neither did even the gods except for the Original One.

Mesprit finished with: _…But Uxie, this incident proves Mew is worthy of her title as the Universal Mother. For you see, this whore is unlike the others: She is here to pray for her child, not for her reputation or life._

Uxie had nothing to say. In that moment knowledge had failed to emotions. Perhaps he did not know all…

At least when it came to Mew's thoughts.

* * *

**Ending notes:**

- For those who have read Dragon Sword and Wind Child, you can see that Eclipsed already differs from it.

- The italicized poem at the beginning is an excerpt of a Gnostic hymn called "The Thunder, Perfect Mind". The translation is provided by George W. MacRae.

- Please review! I cannot guarantee that it will inspire me to pump out the chapters faster considering I am in college and have a job, but it will inspire me to keep writing.

- Oh… and Abby, sorry about being responsible for your inbox getting flooded with false notifications. I'm an idiot. The upload system confuses the hell out of me for some reason.


	2. The Secret

**Meriah's Note: **This is a boring chapter. However, you learn more about the typical lives of the village women -- including the one from the first chapter; her name is finally said. Also, the central topic of Chapter 3 is foretold.

I should note that Quechua words show up throughout this fanfic, starting in this chapter. I thought using such vocabulary would help emphasize that the villagers are an ancient tribal culture living in South America.

Oh, and with that said, the people in this are NOT based on a particular culture. I think it would honestly be rather insulting to include a specific people into this only to screw with their religious beliefs. Not only that, but the people in this are implied to reside in the Amazon; I'm unsure if Quechua reached there or if it was restricted to the Central Andes. So if I'm horribly inaccurate, please don't flame me.

Word translations are provided in the footnote.

* * *

_Everyone is like a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody._

_- Mark Twain_

Far too many individuals recognize gods for only their attributes, such as the moon or the harvest. They fail to see them as unique, and view their personalities as one dimensional: Either they burn with primal rage or are compassionate. Yet how is this possible? If they are indeed superior to mortals, they should experience a spectrum of emotions. Or perhaps the gift of feeling is for humans only.

Yet that, too, leads to another debate: What about lesser beings? Children suggest their pets are sentient. From their perspective, a Skitty purrs when it is delighted and a Growlithe wags its tail when excited. On the other hand, adults suggest that these creatures are expressing innate behaviors. Skitties and Growlithes may be happy, they state, but not to the extent of _human _capacity.

So… what does this all mean? Is it true only mankind senses joy and sorrow? Anger and forgiveness? Exhilaration and ennui? Perhaps this is the case, but it suggests a lonesome existence for humanity. When yearning for a connection with other organisms, they would be limited to a trio of deities: Mesprit, for harnessing the gift of emotions, and Latias and Latios, for their empathetic qualities.

Months had transpired since the woman visited the Shrine to Mew, yet she continued to ponder upon these questions and countless more. According to the priests and elders of the clan, Mew flowed with illimitable love. However, this went against the words from Uxie that Mew had never before granted compassion to a whore.

Why then?

Why her?

What treatment did other impious women receive from the Mother?

Was she honestly the first of her rank to pray for the safety of her child?

Why? Why? _Why?!_

She was grateful… yet mystified.

"Sutichay!" cried a familiar voice, and she turned around to meet eyes with a neighbor. Clearly, she had to set away her reflections for a later time.

"Good to see you, Taruca." She responded with a smile.

Really, why should she clutter her mind with never-ending questions in that moment? It was a pleasant morning, which reminded her to be carefree. The sun filtered through the endless canopy to the river below. As its rays danced upon the crystals in the water, casting soft hues of gold throughout the forest, the fish raised to the surface to seek warmth. The women of the clan, clustering at that location to gather water or wash clothes, chattered over the latest rumors and upcoming events. They were all so _happy…_ not burdened with a great secret like Sutichay.

Sutichay and Taruca met their friends, then dropped their baskets and jugs to converse before working. As always, the main topic of the gossip focused on the village delinquent, a boy of eight named Maita. Apparently, yesterday evening he was punished after the discovery that he killed Pidgeys due to boredom, and at supper he shattered storage containers while in a tantrum.

"I just don't know what to do with him," commented his mother, a plump woman with an agitated face. "I've tried everything! I long ago cut him off from friends; I've smacked him; sometimes I've even made him go to bed hungry." As she rang clothes, it was done with such force that the other women could see her irritation.

"Well, _my_ children never acted up," remarked an older female with an air of haughtiness. "If they had… well, my husband would've abandoned them in the forest!"

Maita's mother gave her an icy glare, and with that the topic was closed.

Sutichay was relieved the future conversations also did not orbit around herself. However, that changed when Taruca asked, "Sutichay, what's troubling you? You're quiet." At that, the women turned their eyes on her.

Startled, she nearly dropped the jug recently filled with water. "I… what? What are you talking about?"

"It is as if you're in a trance! This has been happening for a long time."

"Yeah, she's right," said someone. "You were once an extrovert."

"Maybe it's just her time of the month," sniggered Cui, who was characterized by her outlandish remarks. "Except it's been much longer than a week!"

Sutichay answered with, "I'm fine. I simply have nothing to say."

"Would I be wrong in assuming your heart yearns for a husband?" Taruca queried. "It baffles me that you're pretty but still single."

"Of course I desire to be wed."

"So why aren't you? Pardon my language, but what on this holy Earth is wrong with you? You're going on your twenty-fourth year; you're older than some of the _mothers_ of our village. At this rate, you'll be a face of wrinkles before you decide to settle down."

"That was uncalled for," Sutichay retorted. "In any case, it's my own business."

"I know the comment was harsh, but I meant it out of concern. Anyway, I know there are men who look at you from afar, some of whom are attractive and wealthy. I'm certain they will attend the Pilpintu Raymi."

"Yeah," added Cui. "And if you don't find a man then, I'll conclude you _enjoy_ the single life."

Sutichay decided it was sensible to leave the last statement unanswered, as Cui feasted on responses. Instead she said, "Well, everyone, I would appreciate help with my hair and accessories for the day of the Pilpintu Raymi. You're right -- I _am_ getting older. I need to look my best."

The Pilpintu Raymi was a festival which occurred during the Month of the Butterfree. Synchronized during the time when these cherished Pokémon gathered at a set location to find mates, young residents of the village, too, met to seek potential partners. At the delta of the river, they congregated to dance and exchange songs of devotion. In the meantime, the adults and children banqueted while studying the fervent hearts of the adolescents.

Essentially, it was the fundamental moment toward marriage for the teenagers.

Originally, attending the event was determined by strict factors: Physical development in girls, and a test of strength, stamina and knowledge in boys. However, the elders realized this was inequitable, as individuals mature at different ages. Thus, they decided anyone by their sixteenth year could participate.

For Sutichay, a maiden well beyond adolescence, finding a husband would prove to be challenging. Most were insipid; generic… and foolish! They were like their younger brothers when regarding their mindsets.

"I'll help you," said Taruca. She was younger than Sutichay by seven years, yet she blossomed with the affection of a sister. "Remember, it was your family who cared for me when my mother was ill from the Nina Onqoy."

The Nina Onqoy referred to a ghastly fever which drew its long cloak over the village almost yearly. Those most susceptible were pregnant women or new mothers, which was a primary reason as to why the residents worshipped the Universal Mother. Only her, the greatest of all deities, could save the afflicted from death.

"That is appreciated. Thank you," she replied with a sliver of a grin.

And then… abruptly, rapidly, a rush of nausea struck her. Vomit swelled in her stomach, and she knew such symptoms were that of morning sickness. "Damn it! Not now!" she thought as she attempted to conceal her anxiety. "They cannot know!"

She lifted her jug to return home. As her footsteps raised fine sand behind her, a friend called out, "Wait! Where are you going?"

"I just need to get home; lots of chores to do today," she mechanically answered.

The Pilpintu Raymi was only two nights away, to be observed beneath the silver light of the full moon. With that unsettling reminder, Sutichay set her hand upon her womb, feeling for the breath of life within her child.

Then she wondered if the gods were indeed beyond comprehension. It seemed, in that moment, the Mother had made her the incarnation of a curse. Perhaps there was more to her than mercy; perhaps a thirst for anguish.

That goddess was unworthy of the title "Mother".

"Protect me, _Mew,_" she bellowed with hostility from the depths of her mind. "I am not safe."

Or was she?

* * *

Sutichay - Called, as in "to be called".

Pilpintu Raymi - Butterfly Festival. Obviously there is not Quencha word for Butterfree, heh.

Nina Onqoy - Fire Sickness.

**Ending Note:** Yes, I will admit the Pilpintu Raymi is similar to the Kagai in Dragon Sword and Wind Child. However, you will find essential differences in the upcoming chapter.

Thanks for reading!


	3. Firelight

**Meriah's Note: **There is something I should explain beforehand to prevent confusion. This chapter has segments, and one of them doesn't relate at all to the others. To help ease the reading, this unrelated segment is written in first-person. You'll like the character, I can assure you.

If you're still confused after the reading, mention it in a review. I'll try to clarify.

* * *

"_My dove, in the clefts of the rock, the coverture of the steps,_

_show me your appearance,_

_let me hear your voice,_

_for your voice is pleasant and your appearance is comely." _

_- Song of Songs, Chapter 2:14_

* * *

The Pilpintu Raymi was to occur that night. Women batted at their perspiration caused by clay ovens as they prepared the grandest foods. The capable elderly assisted them, while others conversed between giving orders. Men were occupied with clearing away vegetation at the festival grounds, and young children aided their parents by whatever means. Even the toddlers, whom were far too young for work, clung to their mothers' sides to felt joined in the activity. When eyes were not on them, they took the opportunity to snatch slices of berry bread.

In addition, the adolescents were also busy. The youth insipidly listened to the men lecture about how to enchant females, or they finished the dowries they had slacked on for months. Meanwhile, the maidens chattered like birds to one another as they decided on what dresses to sport, and weaved brilliant flowers into their hair.

It was said that the Pilpintu Raymi was an event for all, yet more so for the youths, and principally for the maidens. Their beauty mirror-imaged life itself; they were representations of pristine water, verdant land, and the soothing pastels of dawn. For them, this was the most significant time of their years: It symbolized their fertility; their closeness to the Mother.

And one, especially, would cherish the Pilpintu Raymi: The one entitled T'ikariy Nyust'a -- literally, Blossom Princess. She was the one regarded as the most resplendent, not only in beauty, but also in femininity. Until the following year, she would be venerated by all, and be crowned by a single dried hibiscus said to originated from Shaymin, Goddess of Gratitude. And this flower, too, was emblematic: It was an illustration of agricultural labor in the previous months, rewarded now with an abundant harvest. Essentially, _everything_ in the lives of these people was an intimate connection with nature; this said, they felt thankful and blessed.

"Find a man this time!"

"I will," Sutichay promised.

Taruca snickered, certain that her friend would once again decline offers from men. She already determined Sutichay would remain a single, lonely virgin for all her years, and perhaps become a midwife. Sutichay, though, could understand the thought floating within the teenager's mind, and retaliated with an annoyed glare.

"I am far from a liar," the woman stated. "I really _will_ settle down this time. Expect me to be popping out babies like Meowths have litters!"

"Sure, sure," was the sarcastic reply.

She sighed. "I'm serious, Taruca. I'm tired of being alone, and my expectations have been far too high. I need to remember that I'm a simple village maiden." With that, she fixed a tiara of mauve orchids in her hair, then accented it with a single white lily.

"About time you said that…"

Despite the frostiness which rang from Taruca, she genuinely cared for Sutichay. However, she could not believe her friend would finally raise a family. The concept seemed foreign! She could understand Sutichay still being single if she was dense or unsightly, but neither applied. She was intelligent, and although not stunning, quite attractive.

* * *

Gradually, the sun descended into the river as the sky turned to scarlet, then violet, and eventually to the deepest shade of blue. The water below, mimicking the image above, seemed to greet the twilight. Then minutes transpired, until the moon fully rose and veiled the landscape in luminous silver, at which a fire was lit. Sutichay's gaze was affixed on the flames that coiled above her like a great snake, and she knew the festival was soon to start.

The constant beat of the _bombo leg__ü__ero _- a drum - pulsated to the cadence of the shaman's apprentice footsteps as he traveled through the crowd. He advised everyone to hush, for his master, a man of utmost veneration, was soon to appear. Some jeered that he was far too young to give orders, but he realized they were _already_ drunk.

"Everyone, please!" he exclaimed. "This is a time of happiness, however, we must not forget to show respect."

"Boy, this is the night when we are equals," stated the chief from his throne. At that, the elder walked down the steps to meet his people. His wives remained at their posts, to which he gestured for them to join him.

The apprentice, who still was in the stage of showing artificial reverence, fell to his knees. "Forgive me, Great One."

The chief smiled. "No need for that right now, lad. As I said, tonight everyone is in unity; let us be joyous."

"Agreed, brother," said a voice from behind the multitude of villagers. It was the shaman, adorned in a multihued tunic specific for the Pilpintu Raymi. Strapped over his shoulder was what seemed to be a bag, and judging by its ornaments, it was of significance. He stopped, and reaching into the bag, pulled from it a couple of sparrows -- a male and female -- and released them to the celestial heavens.

The villagers cheered, aware of their symbolism: Sparrows represented everlasting love.

Once the atmosphere calmed, the shaman removed the _tarka_ - a flute - from his bag. Then, following the beat of the bombo legüero, he welcomed the opening of the ceremony. His instrument resonated an eerie yet beautiful sound as the bonfire behind him seemed to follow the melody.

What occurred was first a prayer to the Goddess. The shaman indicated for everyone to draw their attention to him. He then slammed a polished branch into the earth, and its quake shuddered through the people. Sutichay felt the vibration surge through her like electricity in her veins.

The villagers were all familiar with the prayer -- it was embedded into them; as recognizable as the eternal sun. And as if in a chant, they sounded in monotonous unison:

_Oh Goddess, the Flowing Spring of Existence,_

_Source of Light and Birth,_

_Our Divine Mother…_

_From you heart comes the abundance of all living._

_From your eyes originates the dawn across distant mountains_

_and these green lands, our home._

_And from your soul is the call to purity and wisdom._

As if spellbound, the words flowed from her lips like a dove on wing. Sutichay knew this. Oh, yes, she knew this.

Her eyes shut.

_About you are the elements:_

_Water, the giver, well of women,_

_Air, the sustainer, from which things are animated,_

_Fire, the passion, chamber of our essences,_

_Earth, the womb, the nurturer of all._

_And within you lies the primal and greatest of such energies…_

_Ether, the continuum of Time and Space, the Universal Soul._

The shaman gave another loud boom from his grand instrument.

_You give us rain,_

_Which trails into soils below,_

_And from it comes fertility._

_You greet us with the sun,_

_The emblem of your love,_

_To ensure we preserve._

The emotion from the peoples then transformed. Prayer rose over praise, subtle yet potent as any wind.

_Come, Mother,_

_Listen to the prayers of Your children._

_Protect us in health,_

_Shield women in childbirth,_

_Guide men in their travels,_

_Let our children always be merry,_

_Yield us splendid harvests,_

_And…_

_Do not allow us to meet the End of Days._

Sutichay's eyes opened as the shaman greeted everyone, freeing her from the trance.

"My people!" he cried out with pleasure. "The Pilpintu Raymi is a favorite holiday by all. Tonight, young men and women will find one another and together cultivate a connected soul."

His eyes fell upon those of the celebrated generation. They were now the ones to foster new life. They were the preservers of life.

…Yet an even more significant gaze fell solely upon Sutichay. It waved through her, and slowly, she shed the layers of her reserve to seek the admirer.

* * *

**MEWTWO:**

I felt her coming. That was all I needed, for even if deaf or blind, I would have sensed her psychic signature meandering through the darkness.

She was never absent. She continuously wanted me.

I was aware of this. A primal nature within me thirsted for her allure.

She was in the doorway, accented by the glow of the candle in her hand. Its soft flames danced over the woman, and cast her silhouette upon the wall.

She was always gorgeous, yet her radiance never failed to enchant me.

A crimson kimono skimmed lazily over her shoulders, drawing attention to her features -- eyes like distant pools, ivory skin, slender waistline. Part of her hair was loosely fastened, while the rest fell down to meet her concealed breasts.

She came closer, then stopped within inches of my touch. _Mewtwo-sama…_ she spoke telepathically, and it was melodious.

Suddenly I pulled her into my arms, and my mouth nipped at her neck. My hips ground against hers, as she gasped with a searing passion.

_Natsume, my doll. My exquisite… _I responded.

I craved for her.

A low growl leaked from me as I traced her collarbone with my tongue, and she pled for more -- my touch always emitted that response. Then my teeth iced designs into her sensitive flesh, a blizzard of pain.

Her hands caressed my chest as her gaze locked with my own. She carried a faint scent of jasmine, and I could not resist: I kissed her, mild and succulent, and I could feel her melt into my pleasure. In such moments it was irrelevant that she was a mortal and I a god, for we were a single flame.

The kiss deepened, now evolving into one of lust. Her velvet tongue embraced mine, torpid with a hint of callousness. And I welcomed her action, kneading at her sensitive flesh.

Her head fell back with the release of a moan, while her body quivered with desire. Her back arched, as if she surrendered herself to me, above the physical realm into that of quintessence. I was aware she wanted more but asked if I should continue, for this woman's soul was in my possession, like languid prey under the a hound's fangs.

_I need you…_ she answered in a hazy voice. _As I always do…_

There was something enticing about her response, perhaps the tone or because she always chose to converse psychically in these gatherings. I felt my feline instinct growing tremendous, but I calmed myself, knowing women favored foreplay.

Natsume's fingers traversed across my abdomen like white light. Her silk-covered legs slipped between my thighs, tormenting me with my own raw arousal.

Her devious, almost mocking eyes were still pouring into mine. Then her gaze trailed downward, a sly grin bright on her lips. What was it about a woman which could return anyone to their most innate, vulnerable self? They embodied the art of seduction… they could yield one helpless.

Perhaps it was not her whom had been the sacrifice, but I.

I was a glutton, drunken to her power, and she hushed my cries by brushing off her kimono.

I had seen her this way many times, but even then continued to be spellbound by her beauty. Liberated of her robes like a once caged dove, she was glorious.

She seized me in another kiss. A blazing connection between us, no serenity in it, only a firestorm of ecstasy. And I stroked her right breast, circling the nipple, tantalizing it, almost amused by the whimper I felt in her throat. Then nails raked my back, delivering pain and pleasure.

The kiss persisted as she sensed me becoming hard. As she did this, her hands moved lower, ever so skillfully...

And I was lost to a sea of rapture.

* * *

The blaze of the festival was second in luminosity to the energy which had bewitched the participants. Youth and maidens, relieved that the shaman had finally completed the rituals, now reached out to one another under the glow of the vermilion flames. While some went unnoticed, with a dying zeal to find happiness in this night, others danced, conversed, or left the parameter to seek privacy.

As the dancers progressed, the fire seemed to mimic their movements, swaying in a fast tempo. The rhythm of their feet vibrated through the ground below, awakening the earth from slumber, and sounded to the heavens above. Even the moon seemed enchanted, its white-silver beams pouring on the dancers, as if to celebrate.

In time, the dancing established its zenith before slowing down, symbolizing the adolescents' attentions on their future spouses. They departed in separate directions, away from the brightness of the moonlight to the shadows which crept under the tree line, to pledge their vows.

Sutichay, with her hand now held by a man's, found completion in the darkness. The admirer whispered with the lightness of a feather on wind: "I sought you among the multitudes, for your beauty is precious as the lotus."

She was touched by the imagery. While she realized young men were instructed by their elders to captivate women with soothing, melodic confessions, his felt sincere.

"There is no need to talk fancifully," Sutichay said with a grin. "But I'll admit it's attractive."

A smile spread across her face. And the man, noticing this, added more tantalizing words.

Upon hearing this, she edged in closer, like a fox after a mouse. With a sudden bolt of speed, her hand broke away. As a finger trailed across his lips, she revealed, "Somehow I figured I'd end up with you, Katari," she laughed. "After all of our time together…"

And with that, a kiss fell upon him.

* * *

**Ending note:** For those who don't know, Natsume is Sabrina's Japanese name. If I include any more canon human characters, they too will be addressed by their Japanese names. However, I'm using the dub names for the Pokémon to make this fic easier to follow. That is why Mewtwo is called Mewtwo in this, rather than Myuutsu, Myuutsuu, or other variations, for instance.

And I really need to stop making so many notes. Gah.

Hey, guys, let's hope Chapter 4 doesn't take as long to come out XD


	4. Lucid Dreaming

**Meriah's Note: **I hope I still have readers… [sweatdrop]. This chapter took far longer than it should have, and for that I am sorry. The truth is that I lack a decent excuse. For the most part, my schedule has been free since November. The only productive thing I've done is get accepted into my dream college (I begin in August!), but otherwise I haven't done a damn thing.

I have _not_ lost interest in this fanfic, let me assure you. But I guess it comes down to that I have one hell of a time getting around to writing. I'm one of those people who can type a chapter in a few hours, but it requires months for me to do kick the procrastination. Gah… I really am sorry about my laziness.

Speaking of writing, my brother has been nagging at me for months to be an English minor. Maybe I should. Maybe I'd bother utilizing my imagination more if I was forced!

Now, there is something I need to point out. I changed the era in Eclipsed. Originally, I wanted this to take place…well… a very long time ago XD But now it's in the present, and it will make sense later why everything seems ancient.

Also, I was asked in a review if this story is set in the United States. No, it takes place in two completely different locations:

1) Sutichay and her people reside in the Amazon Rainforest to go alongside with the fact that Mew is said to dwell there (as is said in the anime and games).

2) Mewtwo and Natsume are in Japan. If I had to choose an actual region in the Pokémon world, I'd say Kanto, but that is not relevant to this fic anyway.

Anyway, this chapter should prove to be interesting. It's disturbing, and oh, that is so fun to compose…

* * *

"_I can't breathe,_

_wake up from this nightmare that I'm in._

_Dive into a holy river and wash away my sins,_

_as I reach (sanctified) the surface of the water now._

_I will breathe and burn out my eyes."_

_- Escape the Fate, "There's No Sympathy for the Dead"_

* * *

**MEWTWO:**

Sages will indulge you with the secrets of life, weaving through the threads of all subjects. They may agree with each other at certain intervals, but more often are found in heated debates, arguing the nature of the Creator, why some pokémon are blessed with intellect, or what are the first sins to defile children. However, let me assure you that all concur on a single point -- one which will remain to confuse us all until the end of time: Women never make sense!

I remember before a woman -- or a female of the human species, one might say -- entered my life. Prior to this incidence, I was only an observer, and in my naivety concluded that men were spreading lies. All too often, I heard the men of the palace grumble about the other sex: They act like nuns by day, but approach as succubae in the night; they are amiable one moment, then demand privacy. Yet worst of all, one foolish statement will erupt in a rage fierce as any volcano.

What did I learn? That men spoke the truth! I learned this through experience with my fiancée, Natsume.

Polarity is what defines her. Opposites show at unpredictable moments, thus it is impossible to figure when our meetings are best postponed. To top it all off, Natsume is not a "morning person," as people may state after a week with her.

But regardless…

I looked down at her. She was angelic in that moment -- ivy-colored hair accentuating her features, her eyes closed. But then they opened, and there was a chill in her tone.

"You're always an insomniac," she revealed with nit-picking criticism. That was her way of greeting me before noon. She rose up in the bed with her arms pressed downward for support. With a yawn she added, "I tried to sleep throughout the night, but found it difficult when I heard you pacing around the room."

I smirked. _Do you expect diurnal activity? I am of the moonlight._

She focused on inanimate objects around the room, which I knew to be an unconscious gesture suggesting vexation. For the most part, her gaze was upon the lacquered zelkova chest, an antique from the Meiji Era. She snorted, "Must you always reply with things like that? A normal sentence would be fine, really."

I did not reply. There was no need to always grant her an answer.

"Of course you wouldn't say anything back. How unsurprising."

For a fleeting second, I pondered why she utilized her vocal cords to assault me. She preferred telepathy when seductive.

Then lavender blankets met the floor as she stepped from the bed, and I focused on the valley of her backside. Natsume was attractive in many ways, but it was that one region which I most liked. She had an ideal posture -- elegant as if maintained by a dancer.

Her nude body was ivory in the morning light. The faint perfume of sex clung to her, remains from our last night. She was intoxicating… or almost, save her mood.

She quickly dressed herself in the kimono from hours ago, somewhat careless in her appearance. My lady only needed to reach her own room, where she could tend to hygiene. It was always like this. She came with the moon only to abandon me with the sun, for our lovemaking was meant to be reserved until marriage. That was a rule that I as a member of the Legendaries had to follow.

"I'm getting sick of this… this daily ritual where I have to always leave so _they_ don't suspect anything," she uttered, more so to the air than me.

_I never told you to leave. Certainly you understand why-_

Only then did I see the opaque pools of her eyes. They were empty -- no vengeance, melancholy, or even fatigue. They were devoid of substance and the vitality of existence. Even I did not reflect in those shadowed orbs… and only then did a pause ensnare us to silence the world.

She spoke in an voice synchronized with her eyes, "I know, but you make me feel unwanted anyway."

_Unwanted? I give you everything, Natsume._

"You take me, and that's… that's all."

With that, her garb brushed against the floor as she departed from my chambers.

Only in a time far later would I learn the meaning of her words.

* * *

Katari gazed upon the woman cradled in his arms. The final hour of night was soon to be conquered by the rays of dawn, and his lover had long ago been taken by the necessity of slumber. He smiled, reminiscing on her smooth voice, the way her hands wavered across his body like petals on a breeze, how her kisses left him claimed by affection and seduction.

He smiled, noting to himself that two weeks had transpired since she accepted his proposal. That night was burning in his mind, and he pictured Sutichay… her yelp when he found ticklish places, and her moan when she fell into bliss. Although they had not made love, the urge was there.

It was customary for the woman to join the bed of her husband, but until their wedding the partners were to keep their distance. Katari followed the first rule, however rejected the second even as villagers snorted his disrespect for tradition. To each comment he shrugged it off; after all, he never comprehended why a society which revered a female was otherwise patriarchal. He then added he waited years for Sutichay and any longer wrecked at his heart.

To abide by ritual, his fiancée returned to her casual attire and behavior, a sleeveless blouse paired with a wraparound skirt. (However, that was satisfying to Katari. It seemed more authentic than to expect her any other way; their first encounter was when she was attired in such fashion.) What he found difficulty in accepting, though, was the chastity the woman presented. While other clanswomen violated the rules with winks and lust rich in their tones, Sutichay acted with the purity of a child. Only under the veil of the night, when she was certain she safe from prying eyes, did she come to him.

His view turned to the sky, and with a sigh, he pondered why she tantalized him with kisses and caresses without anything more. Whenever he slipped her clothing down her shoulders, she broke away and responded, "Not yet… just wait a while longer." That, and she usually left before slumber claimed her.

_You look so different now…_ he thought, sweeping stray hair from her face. _So different, yet your face is the same…_

The vivid imagery of his first moment with her came to him. Then it zoomed to a time far later: The night of the festival after they departed from the crowd to be alone. They sauntered hand-in-hand to marvel at the flickering of stars through the endless span of trees. At times they paused to search for the other in their brown eyes - a dance of sienna with raw umber - and then, as is something could be revealed in that condition, the woman broke away. She darted before him with wisps of hair about her like a sprite, and her giggles rushed forth memories from childhood as if innocence had never been sullied. An older man would have understood the message behind the movements she implemented, but Katari was a victim deluded by first-time love.

Why she had chosen him was mystifying, almost unreal. Or perhaps it was the other way around, for she was the daughter of a farmer -- a meager, common fate dulled by the brilliance of greater occupations. Yet he came from a lineage of proud goldsmiths, requested through the generations to ornament the shaman. Also, with the exception of an ugly scar which meandered its way down his arm, he was of pleasant appearance. His tall frame showcased muscles, his hair was a rich brown, and his skin was of even tone. Sutichay was attractive, but not extraordinary. What enchanted him about her went beyond his understanding.

Katari had sought for her in years past, always to only win her in his imagination. Always the same excuse -- "I'm not ready for commitment…".

Why did he go after her all of this time?

Why did she always ignore his pleas and those of the other men?

Why did she finally give into his zealous need?

He laid down, careful as to not disturb the sleeping woman as he positioned her against his chest. Then he allowed the slight dampness of the jungle floor to calm his feverous thoughts.

As he studied her now, he would have never gathered she was a sinner among the worst of kinds -- the defiled; the tarnished; the poisoned. A whore. She was likened to kleptomanics and vandals, murders and rapists. Only the profane were lower: Those who uttered the name of the Mother, and worse, those who venerated the Original One.

Suddenly, a nightmare overtook the sleeping woman. A whimper slid from between her lips, while beads of perspiration appeared on her forehead. Her shoulders jerked, hinting as if she was grabbed by a phantom.

"Sutichay?" Katari said, startled by the gestures.

His concern went unanswered, although he was aware of what became of her. He heard legends of people becoming imprisoned to the shadows of the mind. "Sutichay, wake up…"

The sweat collided with tears to rain down her face. Noises evolved into shrieks and howls. She coiled herself into a fetal position, and rocked back and forth as if a disturbed child.

Katari could not piece together what triggered the dream. Their meeting was enjoyable in which she claimed her day was typical.

Then her nightmare morphed into a vile, savage enigma. As if a demon of possession, it sent her body into a vicious flail, up and down with tremendous power. Her extremities battered into Katari's sides, and he winced, taken aback by the pain which seared through him like liquid fire.

Pleas flew from him, and it that moment it seemed he was no longer communicating to his partner but to an enigma. A wretched, atrocious, hellish thing.

Nails mined into the palms of her hands, then raked over in scarlet lines. They lashed at the breasts, the soft concourse between the thighs, the sanctuary of the womb, until all of her was in slight traces of blood.

"Oh my gods…" Katari voiced, disregarding he had blasphemed with that sentence. He pushed the woman's hands away, shielding further attacks she had against herself. Yet his counter came only with unending struggle. In this state, Sutichay was astoundingly powerful. Never before had she presented strength like this.

Even worse, Katari could tell by the desperate expressions on Sutichay's face that she had absolutely no control over the episode. This Herculean strength, the man then realized, stemmed not from _her_…

Knowing this, terror fell over him. Absolute raw terror.

Yet what exceeded this terror was what hid underneath in the murky depths of the subconscious.

* * *

In Sutichay's nightmare, the night was caving in, enveloping her, lashing her, damning her. Although not paralyzed she could have been called that, for the phenomenon left her without bodily control.

There was no light there, not even the faint cast of a waning moon. She was alone to the seas of desperation and oblivion. Cold vibrated down her spine -- a foreign sensation to her, a native of the tropics. Yet somehow, in this rift without space and time, the sensation was reminiscent as the legendary winds of the Andes spoken of by the shaman.

The bitterness was so strong that it was difficult to breathe. An air noticeable as any fog slipped from her mouth. If possible she would have let arms brace herself for warmth. If she could have, she would have moved through the perpetual blackness, away from this place, to seek warmth and comfort and the company of others.

Wherever, whatever this place be surpassed her comprehension. That, and she was unknowledgeable of where anyone was, if indeed there was anyone out there.

There was no one there to save her. Katari was unable to reach for her hands, to pledge all would be fine with a kiss. Taruca, her lifelong friend, could not utter her sardonic and playful words above this unyielding hell. Nor could the shaman guide her like a beacon over the shadows, or the herbalist clear her mind. Her family was absent too, and that was the worst of the feelings: A delusion crossed her; she thought their blood failed to navigate through her veins, like she was a timeless thing, generated from the first atoms. And it was a terrible feeling. Terrible knowing that, paradoxically, her only companion was this solitude. She was forsaken by the grace of the gods and all mankind. Abandoned as well by the once safeguarded walls of reality, which she watched crumble before her as she fell into this state.

Isolation was the greatest of her fears, a dragon which devoured her securities. Her only true phobia. Was this her punishment? Was this a mockery for her body being unable to resist unison with another?

The fear strangled her; blockaded her breathing. The lack of oxygen swam through her, and her heart pounded rapidly against her chest. She was not dying, but it certainly seemed that way.

With a last ember of energy, she released a scream which thundered through the dimension. She disregarded that nothing could hear her.

…Except something did.

A deep voice echoed, pulsating in her head, and it was more ruthless than the cold which bit at her skin. She could not decipher where the voice originated. It came in all directions, overwhelming her senses, plunging her further into the depths of psychosis.

Although bizarre because nothing could be seen, her stare scurried up, down, left, right. Then the choking feeling turned more intense, while her heart raced at a speed like a fire consuming grasslands.

Yet the episode was only a nightmare, was it not? Since when could the mind be so malevolent?

The voice turned potent and clearer. Its host was closer now, although it was traveling at an indolent pace. This must have been intentional, she thought -- to drive her so crazy that she would _want_ the fiend to get this encounter done with. It was within feet of her, but she could not see it… not at all…

For it was a shadow.

They were separated only by inches, by the lean thread of air. Yet still she could not see it.

Terror exploded from the woman, "TELL ME WHO YOU ARE! For the love of gods, who… who are you…"

_I have no need._ The voice derided. _Legends have spoken of me._

That voice. She remembered it described through folklore; the sound of darkness incarnate. An evil voice. She was alone with it like a mouse under a hawk's talons, and she could not recall ever being so petrified.

It was pointless to act brave before her predator, but she stammered its name: Darkrai.

The god formed into being, as black as a new moon. _You do know of me -- very good. However, woman, speaking my name grants you no power here._

Darkrai shot a ripple of pain through her, and she shrilled to Mew as only that was in her capability.

His voice was telepathic, but in this state seemed like a hallucination. _Mew? Help you? That would be too simple. Mew may be on your side, but She cannot reach you here._

"But she…"

Darkrai cut her off: _I do not answer to the one who is not my predecessor. _

Sutichay saw a monster neither human nor animal, as her heartbeat became mere thuds. In those fleeting seconds of madness, she saw raw brutality… the numb expression of an assassin.

That was the tragedy. Darkrai felt no relief or arousal from his game. Only death rose from this event, something he had grown accustomed to. How could he, a lord of darkness with immortality bright within him, understand the wrongfulness in taking a life?

Or perhaps it was because one life had been taken before him, one he did cherish… and now it simply no longer mattered who lived. Perhaps he was deluded in thinking the deaths of others, those who did not deserve to taste life, would somehow redeem his sin from so long ago. Yet it erased nothing; it only made the gash far bloodier, for not everything can be forgiven.

"Please free me from this…" Sutichay begged, no longer with fear but desperation. It was a low sound.

_Too easy, Sutichay._

Just then the woman felt a spasm in her womb, a pain greater than a dull blade against flesh. It was a cry to the gods, a plea for salvation.

Her own child was a victim in this nightmare!

This was it. Her judgment: A crucifixion of the mind, a dance with schizophrenia from which there was no awakening. Anywhere else and Mew could have freed her, yet even She could not penetrate the tomb of the subconscious. And the soul harbored within Sutichay, dependent on her for protection, would suffer the same fate. Her own child, the barer of its mother's sin.

Darkrai would never bring an end to the agony until she would finally shatter before him, be made to nothingness. He would remain here for as long as needed until the shroud of death covered her.

But her willpower was as strong, despite her beaten state. They were bounded together in this warfare, this story of predator and prey.

"Why the baby…" she said, a spark of valor rising from the hidden chambers of her heart. "Why my child?"

_Because I despise her._

"She's innocent. She knows not of my sin."

_She is the problem, the most accursed of all things, not you. _

The statement puzzled Sutichay, but before she could reply a final bolt of torture fired through her. The ceaseless void faded from her gaze as her eyes closed and her head tiled downward…

And then there was nothing.

* * *

**Ending note: **Well, well… so here the story finally starts to unfold. I actually hated writing this chapter because I got stuck on one part for MONTHS, so… forgive me? ^^;

Pay close attention to Darkrai's hatred for Sutichay's daughter. It's probably the most important part of this fanfic so far. I want you to ponder on it… and yes, to guess why he hates her so much! I dropped a hint and I hope someone picks up on it!

Now that this chapter is over, the story will finally gain some substance. I'm almost done with employing Sutichay for my sadistic means (poor woman, really… I feel bad for her), and then I can move onto the true main character.

Also, excuse me for the advertising, but I have an offshoot of Eclipsed called Requiem of the Shadows. It focuses heavily on Darkrai and Cresselia, along with Aden, a very interesting character! Aden will not appear in Eclipsed until later and is not all that important, but shines in the other story.


	5. The Shaman's Gift

**Meriah's Note:** I have returned from Michigan to the horrible state of Massachusetts. Actually Massachusetts is decent, but I hate my exact location. [cough] Sorry for the hiatus.

As you can see, I'm back to writing! ...But I can't guarantee much, as usual. I am preparing for college, am camping August 11th-16th, and am starting classes on the 31st. Three of my courses are time-consuming (two labs and statistics). So please, bare with me.

However... I hope I've made up my long wait to you with **two chapters** for your reading pleasure ^_^;

Just so you know, this chapter focuses only on Sutichay, but the next is for the star we all obsess over, Mewtwo. Yep... noting that before you think I forgot about Mewtwo XD

Enjoy!

* * *

"_I see the dream and I see the nightmare,_

_and I believe you can't have the dream without the nightmare."_

_- Tori Amos_

Sutichay was alive.

A constant beat throbbed in the depths of her brain. Loud and callous, it was more tyrannizing than any other sensation, and coursed through her like the fire of a dragon's breath. The pain was excruciating yet unique; her skull felt as if it would shatter from the intensity. The meninges – the sensitive membrane encasing the brain – overacted with blood vessels, nerves, serotonin and dopamine, as if the items were attacking one another and she was in the crossfire.

Paradoxically, it was as if her brain was imploding and exploding... but in actuality it was a migraine.

She opened her eyes. Immediately the light burned through the thatched ceiling of the hut with the force of a hundred suns. She turned away and rubbed her head, so as to focus on the clamoring sounds still assaulting her. But then she questioned what was the most agonizing.

Time passed slowly, although the episode came so abruptly. The sound washing over her resembled static on the radio, buzzing and obnoxious at the highest volume. The acidic taste of bile filled in her throat, and she nearly gagged on her own tongue. She had to vomit; she tilted her head downwards and the putrid green-yellow liquid released from her onto the floor until there was nothing but dry-heaving. Only when that ended did she realize some of the substance caked her skin and hair.

The smell of her own bile was almost enough to trigger another spell.

Suddenly, the woman picked up on a new sound. It originated from the east, beyond the walls and doorway. She was certain it was the sound of her lover's footsteps dashing forward.

"Sutichay!" Katari announced, stopping before her beside. He battled to regain steady breathing, caught up in the sounds coming from the shelter. "Oh... look at you..."

A sheepish expression fell over the woman's face. She set her feet down, gaining balance to prepare herself a few steps toward the water jar at the far corner, but her knees faltered. Against her pride, she found Katari removing the waste from her skin and hair with a rag. She insisted she could at least clean what polluted the floor – again, he did so instead.

Once certain the vomiting had passed, he brought her into the haven of his arms and embraced her weakened frame against his chest. They remained in that state as her anxiety cooled with his touch.

"Where are we..." Sutichay puffed. "The shaman's hut?"

"Yes, I carried you here. You... something happened to you last night in the woods." Katari elaborated, noting she was fine but then instantly fell into the most vicious of night terrors he had ever witnessed. He was uncertain of what came over her, yet was sure it must have been dire, malicious, _evil_. He suspected the phantom called by many names – the Night Phantom, the Lurker in the Shadows, the Killer of the Mind, yet could not brave himself to ask. Sutichay listened to this disclosure as her inquisitive eyes turned to those of fear. The incident was made anew to her... and she shuddered as the memories slithered through her.

It was over. The terror still haunted her, but at least the nightmare was over. She sighed.

The question was apparent in the man's expression. His sympathy was only second to that of his own fear. If that ghoul of many aliases, Darkrai, was responsible for her dream...

If only he could ask her.

Minutes later the couple was greeted by the shaman and his apprentice. It took only a few seconds for the aged man to know Sutichay was suffering a migraine – a byproduct from atrocious dream of the previous night. He gestured for the two other males to leave with his grayed, wrinkled finger aimed at the doorway. Once they departed, he began to search through various containers for something, the diverse aromas of medicinal plants and potions swirling through the shack. He said something about his apprentice always misplacing his possessions, and laughed that in his younger years he had done the same to his teacher. Whether Sutichay was listening or not was irrelevant; he was an elder likely babbling to himself to lighten the atmosphere. Finally, his arthritic hands wrestled with the lid of a clay jar, and he dipped one in to grasp the precious item it held: A weed adorned with oblong-shaped leaves.

Her migraine was quickly growing more intense. Sutichay quivered and released a whimper.

The elder noted for her to be patient as he set the roots into a grinder, flattening the contents as the lid was secured. He asked the ailing woman to twist the tool until he said so, adding that his pained hands were useless in the procedure. As she did so, a garlic-like scent released from the grinder, awakening her senses.

When determined ready, he took the object from her and opened it once again. It had been reduced to dull brown and green shavings. "This is a sacred plant," he declared. "It was given to our ancestors. May you guess by whom?"

The woman considered a few options, until it dawned upon her that the answer was unmistakable. "The Goddess of Vegetation, Shaymin. Am I right?"

"Hmm... good answer." He grinned as the shavings were poured into a bowl. "Unfortunately, you're incorrect. While it is true that Shaymin introduced our kind to many medicines, this one – called _mucura_ by our people, _anamu_ by others – was from the Lady of the Moon."

"Cresselia," she responded with an artificial smile, far too wrecked by pain to care. "Of course, she is merciful..."

"It treats many ailments, and is quite respected for easing migraines. It is clear you are plagued by one."

She nodded, then...

Another jolt of pain electrified her, and her hands covered her pounding head. However, she fought against the feeling as the shaman passed her the mucura in a pipe, instructing her to inhale the crushed form. She did so, and its astringent juices caused her lips to purse. The powder was as potent as its counterpart, yet liberation came as the smoke filled her lungs and traveled to her face. With every exhale, a pathway of numbness left new steps through her body.

Gradually her migraine began to calm down as she was lost to chat. Their conversation became detailed, and hours passed free from responsibilities. She would get to her chores later, as this was an opportunity to talk with the most venerated person of the clan. They had never spoken to the other until that fated morning.

As Sutichay smoked, her companion spoke of myths cradled through the generations – the making of earth; the battles between the gods; the gifts and the curses left by them. Then he detailed about the endless brooks and creeks which lead to rivers, and rivers finding unity at the ocean. She asked why water is significant beyond its life-sustaining properties; he answered because all individuals are brooks and creeks, all cultures are rivers, and all of creation represents the ocean.

"Have you seen the ocean?" she inquired, her sclerae a faint red from the mucura high. "I cannot picture it." Again she brought the pipe to her mouth. Her fingers tingled as the smoke left its intoxicating kisses.

"Once, as part of my journey to earn my title." He sorted through compartments of the mind to find the memory. It was one that had been unattended for ages past, and he thought would never be viewed again save for meditation.

The woman thirsted for knowledge. All she experienced was the village and the jungle. Beyond that was a range of eternal mountains, the Andes, which had only been traversed by the priest and warrior classes. Her journeys could only be embarked upon through the imagination.

Then Sutichay felt her hands enfolded by those of the man. Theirs were so different from the other – his fingers were stubby, his knuckles calloused, his nails brittle. Hers fingers were long and elegant, and she had not yet lived enough years for her beauty to be deteriorated.

He said, "Let your creativity paint for you what I am about to say. I will tell you about the ocean. Close your eyes." Then he reached into the huge bag tied around his waist, and from it placed an item upon the woman's lap. She was instructed to caress it while her eyes were closed. He wanted her to _feel_ those magnificent waters; _see_ them in her mind.

Her fingers fell over the entity. It was mysterious and foreign – satiny yet hard, lined with fine ridges, and with two cones protruding from the center. She continued to study it, discovering a pair of spikes on the bottom, and bowed angles at the end.

"What is this?"

"What once was the home of a shellder, a sea pokémon. They live in these things – shells – and when matured, move onto larger ones."

Sutichay wanted to peer upon the amazing object. It was most comparable to a rock smoothed by the river, although its texture was unique.

"Do they evolve?"

"Yes, although I have not seen what it becomes..." he fumbled with the name, raking his memories as to resurface the answer. "Ah, in my old age I cannot remember what it is called! But what is more intriguing is that I have heard it can latch onto another pokémon, and together they become a new one."

She smiled with a child-like fascination. Shellders had an ability unlike the species of her biome.

The shaman told her to place the shell against her ear, and she motioned that seemed bizarre. Yet he insisted, and to her surprise gave in and was enchanted by the sound. It was the sound of the ocean, the music of primordial life caressing her with its notes.

Entranced, only then was she prepared to imagine the ocean. She was instructed to see herself there, to make the vision as real as the oxygen which sustained her.

In her vision, her gaze fell over the pallet of blue, brown and silver. The muted colors seemed leftover; paints ignored in a child's watercolors set, with the destiny to be thrown away during a spring cleaning. Yet to her the combination was glorious, as if thoughtfully selected by a deity. It was apparent why the ancients personified the ocean, she mused. Its "moods" mimicked those of a goddess in human form – tranquil in moments such as then, and lethal at other times. She noticed the waves were like robes caught in the wind, flowing and retreating.

The Pacific. She desired for this to be her home. She had been touched by cooler waters before, and they streamed down her like a lover's arms about her waist. However, there was something mesmerizing about the warm temperatures that grazed the Peruvian shore: The ocean there seemed more far older, as if hiding the wisdom of creation.

These were colors branded ugly by artists, but to her highlighted the vista of sea, land and sky. They blended in unison, as if painted with careful brush strokes by her imaginary goddess, and were like hues found in the rainforest.

Then the lighting changed, and suddenly the waves became colors unknown to her: Turquoise, cerulean, soft green. She had thought such hues only existed upon petals which scored the line of her village, and yet they were found otherwise with a greater intensity!

The air rushed through her, kissing skin and bone. Sand taunted her by making her walk bunglesome; she was adorned in cheap sandals, stylized for activities upon solid earth, yet this was of no concern to her.

She saw pokémon beyond her limits of comprehension, and she pondered how she could know their appearance without ever having looked upon them. Wingulls and pelippers decorated the skies overhead with their wings on the breeze. Many pinnipeds – seels and spheals – sunbathed along the shore. Krabbies and kinglers scuttled across the uneven terrain. Finally, somewhere far off, the tranquil waters were broken by a wailord surfacing for air, disturbing a pod of lapras from their rest. She believed there were many more species in an underwater habitat impenetrable by humans.

Lost in her dreamstate, she failed to notice as her migraine ceased. Or perhaps the headache ended long before then. Time became a fragment of actuality, nonexistent to that realm, and minutes passed devoted to the pictures which flooded her. She saw her beige dress soaked by the crashing waves, the spritz of water in her hair. The golden disk in the sky gazed down upon all of creation, watching the harmony between pokémon and this one woman – a reminder of an era lost very long ago, a final glimpse of Eden.

Sutichay wondered if the shaman looked upon these things in his quest. She did not know how she could envision things she had never seen – perhaps the man used magic, or it was the high from the medicinal plant, or maybe even it was her own spiritual energies at work? She only knew that her vision felt tangible, like it was a revelation of what was to come.

With that her vision ended, and her brown irises fell upon the hut again. Just as the moment of serenity came it had left – one of those moments as precious as the finger of a baby meeting it's mother's own, or a soft rain in July to break the heat. She had come back to reality.

Sutichay thanked him for opening her senses, then added with a chuckle, "So, I suppose I'll be fine now? No more pain, no nightmares?"

"Only you can take control of what haunts you in the night. The migraines are caused by the nightmares, but the medicine should continue to help." He passed her the jar holding the mucura, advising she be cautious due to its power. The ancient pools of his eyes met hers, and the following minute sliced through her.

"It is not something which should be abused."

"Why?"

He replied in a lackadaisical tone, "It can induce abortions. But you are not pregnant, right?"

* * *

**Meriah's note: **Hope you enjoyed it! And remember, Mewtwo owns the next chapter.

Mewtwo: Good, I cannot stand Sutichay.


	6. Cresselia's Warning

"_If you understand or if you don't_

_If you believe or if you doubt_

_There's a universal justice_

_And the eyes of truth_

_Are always watching you."_

_- Enigma, "The Cross of Changes"_

**MEWTWO**

Humans always interrupted me during my baths. Especially men.

However, that was one small detail in a grand story of happenings.

Yesterday, Natsume stormed into her quarters with the face of a banshee. She was flaring with rage from a mild argument, but I lacked the energy to deal with her chaotic emotions. I let her have space until dinner when I asked her accompany me, but she insisted she wanted to be in solitude.

Natsume had not spoken with me since. No matter; I had something else to focus upon: My concern was a relaxing session of hydrotherapy. I entered the bathroom and effortlessly warmed the coals under the cedar wood tub with telekineses – a skill learned sometime ago and proven practical, even if only for myself.

I waited for a while, passing the minutes by enjoying the tranquility of the room. The palace was unlike the one which occupied the now-desolate New Island. Inspired by ancient Japanese architecture, it carried an elegant and airy feel.

Almost certain that the water had reached a desirable temperature, I dipped a foot into the tub and was relieved to know it was hot.

A pinch of vexation hit me as I discovered the mat below me had frayed. It unraveled outward as long threads of dried plant matter, and the color was an unsightly tan. Regardless, I moved into the tub, laid my head against the side as the rest of my body descended below the water, and surrendered myself to the sliver of paradise. Muscles gradually loosened until finally the ones in the neck gave in.

Arms fell over the tub when I shut my eyes, allowing meditation to consume me. The water caressed me with its endless cycle of ebb and flow, and it seemed as if I had become the substance. Its motion matched the rhythm of my heartbeat; its vapors melded with my breath.

It had been months since I last enjoyed a bath. I hoped that session could be peaceful, but I was proven wrong yet again. My retreats from stress were always limited!

My primary messenger, Daisuke, bolted through the door. Upon seeing me bathing, his gaze was immediately obscured by his hands and his face turned bright red. He knew better not to invade my privacy! In a docile voice he stated, "Excuse me, my lord. I didn't know you'd be in the tub yet."

_Thus you attempt to justify your behavior by passing through my bedroom, clearing seeing I am not present, and entering my most private of rooms?!_

Patience wore thin with me – I bit down on my tongue, noting to next time lock the door. Or perhaps I should have demoted him from his rank that second, but that would be acting on emotion alone.

"Please, my lord. I am here for an important reason," he whimpered. The human fluttered a sheet of paper about, his eyes still covered.

_Daisuke, drop your hands from your face._

Daisuke had a letter for me from someone of crucial importance, and I told him to read it aloud. The addressee contacted only during periods in which we could both be benefited. However, her brother was a trusted ally of mine – maybe even a friend, as humans would say – and we conversed often. In any case, both held my respect.

The letter stated:

_To Mewtwo:_

_Let us meet tonight under the Summer Triangle at our usual location. The Age of Mew is upon us, and this will yield a force of greatest magnitude. The Liberator will be born during the infancy of the era, and his or her presence will change the very threads of our reign. _

_We cannot wait. This issue must be discussed, and your input would be much appreciated._

_- Cresselia_

My only response was, _inform the lady her request will be fulfilled. _I flickered my paw from the water, and he knew that was my sign for dismissal. He trotted out with his face still as red.

I mused on the upcoming meeting. Who was the Liberator? I heard nothing of this character before. Was it one of the gods, a lower pokémon, something else? What would be the outcome of this being entering the world?

I scoffed. The lunar goddess must have been mistaken. Certainly there was no way one entity could generate so much change. In all my years upon this planet, only two beings wielded such power. One was _that_ boy, Satoshi as he was known, but that was many years ago...

The other was me.

I dragged myself out of the tub, and aches returned to my muscles as if to plea I should stay longer. I reached for a towel and dried myself – an automatic motion that was abrasive on my thin fur.

My ignorance sheltered me like the eye a hurricane. Yet that night I would be consumed by the winds and rain of an unavoidable truth.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I stood on a cliff in the blue-violet hues before night. The Summer Triangle, an asterism linking the constellations of Aquila, Cygnus and Lyra, peered down upon me from straight above. I then noticed Vega, a brilliant star in the celestial illustration, flickered as if to remind that there were things far greater than me – a god never meant to be.

No... I could not think about that, not at that time. I shook my head, remembering why my presence was there rather than somewhere else. It was tradition to meet with Cresselia at that location. It was a neutral territory owned by no member of the Pantheon, and thus served as a common ground for important discussions.

Moments transpired. A yawn tumbled from my diaphragm, indicating my boredom. Night came into being, and the moon was a waxing gibbous.

Then she arrived... not as a pokémon, but a woman.

I must admit her beauty was incomparable to any mortal – she rivaled the moon; its features radiated in her own. An ōgi kanzashi – or hair ornament – casted her an aristocratic elegance which I idolized. It was constructed of solid gold, and included small flowers crowning her head with streamers falling down her side. This drew my attention to what it highlighted: Her long flaxen hair, which poured down her like rain to only end at her hips.

Moonbeams reflected off her ivory skin, contrasting with her full scarlet lips and orchid eyes. It was those irises which were most striking about her – cool, enticing, graceful; the adjectives of a woman of confidence – and not a gaze which I often found. (A gaze so different from Natsume's usual, which were faraway and clouded and made me wonder if there was anything in her at all.)

She was adorned in the finest kimono. Its endless layers of silks had a sheen in the modest light and were warm shades – amber through ruby, and all in between. Only her I saw in such elaborate garments... but it suited her.

She came towards me with lightness in her steps. Yet there was no friendly welcome, no joy in her expression, only a graveness which pieced my core.

"Thank you for meeting with me," she said. Before I could respond she threw in, "We have no time to speak on light subjects."

_You always feed me with intelligent discussion, though. But no matter – what is it, Cresselia?_

Her human voice was direct and low, unlike her free-spirited one when in pokémon form.

"I realize some of the Pantheon sees you as a... demigod."

What did my status have to do with anything?

_Yes..._

"Well, due to that there has been information kept from you."

I flinched with irritation. _Whether all of the Pantheon approves of me or not is irrelevant. My power is equal to theirs, and my campaign has proven the extent of my supremacy. Information should never be kept from me for that reason alone. _I took a deep breath, calming myself. _Please continue._

"I know you are scholarly. Are you aware of the significance behind the astrological ages?"

I scoffed, knowing astrology was a pseudoscience for the superstitious and foolish. If she had wished to speak with me over what now seemed to be a false prophecy, I would just as quickly dismissed the meeting and been on my own way.

Cresselia decoded my thought and lashed with a bitter tone, "Perhaps you are the ignorant one."

I smirked with dry amusement. She sighed.

The wind caught in her hair, and she brushed it away from her face as she elaborated on her point. "There are twelve astrological ages, each corresponding to a certain god. As is obvious, there are thirty-five members of the Pantheon, thus only the most primordial or significant of them have association with these time periods."

My arms crossed. Although I was doubtful of her words I stated, _Why is this relevant to me?_

"The attributes of the age respond to those like its god." She used the example of The Age of Celebi, when the world was fertile, abundant with forests, and there was a sense of harmony. Then she spoke of the current age, noting events fell out of place. Humans had gained dominion over the natural world until the error was corrected with my campaign – or the Great Cleansing, as she sickeningly dubbed it. She stated that due to the chaos, at present there was a "pause" in relation with any deity until the upcoming age.

_You still have not answered what this has to do with me, Cresselia._

"Be patient. I am getting to that. Anyway, we are in the elderly days of this astrological age." She looked upon me with brightness, aware it would ensnare my attention. "The next is the Age of Mew."

My eyes widened. _With power restored to the Pantheon, are you implying Mew will reign?_

"Correct, and that is why I am speaking with you. In a sense, you _are_ another Mew. You share her genetics." She then emphasized, "But Mewtwo, the utmost concern here is that her reign will open on the very day of a Platonic Year – or about 25,860 years to be precise – meaning there will be a precession of the equinoxes. And this... this will bring about the Liberator."

_You are not being straightforward with me. Are you implying I should intervene? What is it you want me to execute? Who is the Liberator?! _

Her face turbed back to its serious look, and she answered, "Your first two questions must be answered on your own. As for the third, we will not know until then."

There was a pause between us as the mood obscured itself behind clouds. She knew the inquiry swelling within me, I could tell. Then those perfect lips parted, and her response was direct: "The Liberator will be the end of us."

I was at a loss for words. I could only say, _At least inform me of when this will occur!_

The answer crumbled upon me.

"December 21st of the year 2012."

* * *

**Meriah's notes:**

Ahaha, are things starting to make sense? I think so. Eh...

Some of the vocabulary in this chapter may be confusing. For your convenience, here are definitions from Wikipedia:

astrological age: ...a time period in astrology which is believed by some to parallel major changes in the Earth's inhabitants' development, particularly relating to culture, society, and politics. There are twelve astrological ages corresponding to the twelve zodiacal signs in astrology. At the completion of one cycle of twelve astrological ages, the cycle repeats itself. Astrological ages occur because of a phenomenon known as the precession of the equinoxes. One complete period of this precession is called a Great Year or Platonic Year of about 25,860 years.

precession of the equinoxes: In astronomy, precession is a gravity-induced, slow and continuous change in an astronomical body's rotational axis or orbital path. In particular, it refers to the gradual shift in the orientation of Earth's axis of rotation, which, like a wobbling top, traces out a cone cycle of approximately 26,000 years. The term "precession" typically refers only to this largest secular motion; other changes in the alignment of Earth's axis - nutation and polar motion — are much smaller in magnitude.

Moving onward, as always any questions you have are welcomed in a review or private message. I can promise you though that everything will be answered as the story continues, such as why Cresselia can take on a human form.

...Yeah, I find astrology and other metaphysical concepts to be fascinating, I'll admit ^^; However, I don't believe people are influenced by their zodical sign, nor do I ever listen to horoscopes.

Thanks for reading and please review. It means more than I can express!

Until next time,

Meriah


	7. Found Out!

**Meriah's Note: **I am moving to Maine for college on Saturday, August 29th. I was hoping to get this chapter released far earlier in the month so I could tackle at least two more. Unfortunately, I was hospitalized during some of that time (I'm okay), and lacked the desire to write. That said, I will try to submit at least one more chapter before the start of the semester.

* * *

"_Heaven, help me for the way I am._

_Save me from these evil deeds._

_I know tomorrow brings the consequence at hand._

_But I keep livin' this day like_

_the next will never come." _

_- Fiona Apple, "Criminal"_

There was an exchange of silence between the woman and the shaman.

With his legs intertwined and his arms in restful symmetry, he looked like the Buddha under the bodhi tree. Though only a man, at that moment his presence felt ethereal to Sutichay. He was certainly positioned upon the same ground, his clothes darkened by the same soil in the hut, even though his gaze was different than before. Sutichay felt the hair rise along her neck and back as she took in the shock of him _knowing_.

The shaman maintained himself, but under his cool demeanor he flared an overwhelming power as her leader. Although there was a council, it was ultimately him who finalized decisions. He determined when to plant and harvest, how goods should be rationed, or what laws were enforced. With the striking of his staff, he voiced when to go to war. He had all these says and more.

As healer and priest of the clan, his status ultimately succeeded even the chief's – and that is what made him so dangerous. With a mere nod he could determine her destiny.

Sutichay was at a loss for words. A bead of sweat moved down her face. There was no way to conceal her anxiety – it would have been obvious even to a fool. She wiped the perspiration with her sleeve.

The shaman ended the quietness with, "Why are you sweating?"

"I'm hot. Morning's turning into afternoon. I always get overheated." It was a sad excuse of a lie. She mumbled a curse into her sleeve thinking how tense she must look.

His usual smile faded into a scowl. "I am not a simpleton. My body is old, but my mind remains as shape as a blade."

"I..." she uttered, her face still concealed. "I never meant to imply you are." She felt tears forming, and by that point she did not know if she was ruined by shame or embarrassment.

"Look at me, Sutichay," he chided with a soft voice. "Your gesture is disrespectful."

Reluctantly, she looked at the man. He was ancient, his face folded with wrinkles and his hair solid white. Flesh sagged beneath his eyes like two packed bags. It astounded her that he was so old – many people in the village did not see their fortieth birthday. It was obvious why he was revered.

"Who is the father?"

"...What?" she responded with a dry throat.

He inquired once again, and this time there was no way to act as if she misheard.

She thought, "_What the hell do I say?!"_

She was dumbfounded. She absolutely could not reveal the identity of who slept with her. Whores were despised enough in her society; often their punishment was met with stones. However, to reveal him at all... no, she would be branded a deceiver. They would jeer that he would never bed with someone of low status – after all, she was only the daughter of a farmer. Various men bolted through her mind as she attempted to decide who to blame. _"Atoc... he does always pressure us females. But no, he found love recently. Huallpa... that wouldn't work; he's Taruca's brother. I can't put Taruca's family through such embarassment. Yutu... not him, either. He has a loving marriage... what would his wife think? Mani... no, he was never attracted to me. Palta... no way, everyone knows he likes men despite his denial." _More ideas swam through her until it dawned upon her who would be best. She did not want to... he treated greater than the most polished jade. To lie about him was a stab at his devotion, love and adoration.

The shaman only waited, although the thin line of his patience was close to snapping.

The words fell out of her. "Katari. It was Katari." A tooth sank into her lip, nearly drawing blood. She elaborated that he came to her before the Pilpintu Raymi. In a tender half-hour, she lost her senses to carnal needs.

He considered the information. A close bond was once formed between the old man and Katari's deceased grandfather. Decades ago they journeyed to the Dead Lands, a massive plain formed by a historical firestorm, many days away from their home. They had no need to be there except to satisfy their adolescent curiosity to explore. Either by natural law or divine correction, a seviper struck his heel. With the speed of lightning, the other boy impaled the beast with his spear. Immediately, the ill-fated male was rushed back towards the village, carried for hours through vines, thickets, mud and water and late into the night. It was astonishing his friend, bright with sweat and fatigue, never stopped.

Although a fiery localized pain ravaged the future shaman, he survived the far more dangerous effects on the vascular system – coagulation of the blood and clotting of the pulmonary arteries. The miracle was commemorated through the birth of his friend's grandson – Katari meant "snake". As was such, he was a central figure in the life of his friend and Katari, whom he held upon his entrance into the world. It was when the infant gazed into the eyes of the man before any other person that their link was formed.

He loved and understood Katari as if he were his own flesh and blood. Often the boy spent weeks with him learning how to change sacred plants into into elixirs and potions, practicing the construction of musical instruments, and the mastering the proper usage of ritual tools.

After long thought his gray eyes locked upon the woman. He stated dubiously, "Is what you speak the truth?"

She stammered a _yes_ with difficulty, as if the word was caught in her throat.

He nodded, then conversation ended when he told her to leave. Sutichay nearly dashed from the hut, her legs as relieved as her soul to be loosened from talking any further. Under her condition it never even crossed her how the shaman knew of her pregnancy. As she exited into the brightness of the outside, she was relieved to find no one in sight. Both Katari and the apprentice had midday tasks to complete, she assumed.

Her assumption was only half-correct. Indeed Katari was gone; on the other hand, the apprentice was within feet of her, hidden by a corner of the shelter. She failed to notice him as she walked, her dress waving dust upwards as a cloud and finding him. Yet his repulsion, lethal as any venom, was a burden to maintain. He saw through her lie...

"_Qhencha_," he murmured. That is what she was – a lowly adulteress.

He thought about a proverb which lingered in a neighboring village – 'be nice to the bad people'. Yet they were a backwards people, with tools far more primitive than his own, and a limited language comparable to a young child's. The statement in his beautiful Quechua would be more like 'have mercy for the defiled'.

Have mercy for the defiled? He scoffed. _That_ would be the day. It was the whores, thieves and murders who derogated their own goddess through sin. The women were especially accountable, for they were meant to be living symbols of the Mother.

Adding onto that, what did the other clan know of anything? They were hypocritical, only blessing forgiveness to their own kind. They starved for bloodshed, their quivers heavy with arrows and their spears kept sharp. They listened only to Azelf – Spirit of Will and Courage – by completely disregarding the teachings of the pixie's siblings. Yet certainly the power of a warrior could not be determined by intimidation but by respect, and in that sense they shamed Azelf.

His nails raked his arm, painting the skin a faint scarlet. He disliked his barbarian neighbors. He hated the sinners which made a mockery of the Lady. Yet most of all, he hated women like Sutichay. For her to filthy herself was one matter, but to lie about it – he would not stand it!

"Someone like you nearly cost me my title," he spoke to the wind, referring Sutichay. "My late sister... dead in body, even more dead in soul to me... she was like you. Her sin reflected upon me due to us sharing the same blood."

His hands clenched into tight fists. "I will not allow a humble man like Katari to be shamed."

He stood, his posture rigid. He gazed at the unforgiving afternoon sun, its rays burning through him.

Soon punishment would fall upon the whore in the most dreadful of ways, he declared.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As Sutichay approached her home, Taruca seemed to appear from nothingness. She immediately orbited around her friend, pounding her with "Are you okay?" endlessly.

"Yes, I'm fine," the older female grumbled. "I just... I had a hard night, that's all."

"What happened?" Her voice was bright with concern, but littered in the tone of a bubbly teenager.

Sutichay quickly summarized her migraine, certain to hide details about the pregnancy and the nightmare. She was not in the mood to converse even with her best friend. Her only concern was to ease her thoughts for a while.

The adolescent tilted her head to the side; the expression of a confused dog. She was aware that Sutichay was keeping out some parts, but could not patch it together. "What do you mean you had a migraine? You never have migraines."

She retaliated by stating there was no reason. Migraines sometimes rose by themselves, or maybe she was stressed.

"But why would you be stressed? What do you possibly have to worry about?"

She wanted to laugh. Yet again she lied, saying that she was unprepared as a soon-to-be wife.

"Well, you've had plenty of years to practice for this!" Taruca giggled. "Must I point out again that you're getting married a lot older than the other women?"

She nodded. It was aimless to fuel the chat.

"Here, help me out," her friend commanded, nearly knocking Sutichay over with a basket. There were bananas, avocados and tangerines to be gathered, a project which was less tiresome with a companion. Before the adult could open her mouth to protest she was shut down with insistent pleas.

Then a voice came up from behind her, and sweat drizzled on her face. It was Katari's, copious with upcoming questions.


	8. Stabbing a Sea Cucumber

**Meriah's Note: **This chapter was such a relief to write! It has HUMOR! YES!!!

Also, could someone tell me where I'm going wrong? I have maybe four people following the course of this fanfic. Currently, I have a total of twenty reviews... out of seven chapters (although I am thankful to all who have reviewed, especially WiseAbsol, whose talents I admire). I hate to complain, really, but it isn't that difficult to leave a review. I do it when I read other's works.

I have a problem with the Pokémon fanfiction community: It seems to me that with the exception of some stories here and there, any chapter fic of a serious nature is generally disregarded. Instead, people seem to prefer poorly written ones that can be updated on a constant basis because they have no plot whatsoever and have chapters that took no time to make. I know... _I know..._ it's just fanfiction; no use in getting worked up. However, some of us (myself included) write fanfiction as a stepping stone to original works, so feedback is important. In fact, I would love to have a novel published someday.

So please, if you happen to be following my fic (and I'd say it is being followed, judging by the story traffic), please grant me a review. It only takes a few seconds.

* * *

"_These things will change, can you feel it now?  
These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down.  
It's a revolution, the time will come for us to finally win."_

_- Taylor Swift, "Change"_

Tsukiakari was a spacious area which originated from a peninsula through the beginning of the mainland's center. In an earlier time, it would have extended from Snowpoint City through Celestic Town, occupying routes and a portion of Mount Coronet. Rumored to have been created by the olympian energy of the Original One when he stirred in his endless slumber, the region did seem to be ethereal. Within this region was a valley that cradled Mikazuki, the capital and location of the Lunar Palace. It was there where Cresselia and Darkrai made residence, along with a group of manors for the palace's workers. A labyrinth of roads gave way to a grand avenue which lead to the building; it was lined with stones on either side to portray its significance. Around the city, the lawns were maintained without a single long blade of grass, and all ponds were decorated with waterlilies. Even the trees were cared for – they were pruned to look alike, then removed once becoming too large. Yet what was most striking was the public garden in the heart of the civilization; it was shaped like a crescent moon with flowers lining a small circular pool.

In other locations nature was what held supreme. Yet there in Tsukiakari its dominion had been seized by humans who all served under their two lunar deities. Perhaps only Ougonkoku, Mewtwo's capital city, was equal in architectural brilliance. Immediately outside the walled city, people cautiously harvested vegetables. It was if they were in a daze as they worked under the sun, their perspiration shining against the golden rays on their bodies. It was this boring task which they had performed for years, but that was acceptable – Tsukiakari had long been celebrated as a haven. To complain would prove pointless, especially since other humans lacked the right of safety. And so they made games and sang as they pulled and dug out their precious food, thankful in the name of Cresselia and Darkrai for their continued survival.

Suddenly, a flash of colorful robes appeared from the east, moving down the pathway towards the main gate. The people instantly recognized their goddess; they shed their tools to bow, and were greeted with an artificial smile. Their relationship was one of queen and her subjects; of a concerned but unloving woman to her people. There was no warmth vibrating from her, only an obligatory pity. A young girl inquired to her mother why their lady was not distressed by the heat under her multitude of robes and long hair, however she was told to hush. Such questions were inappropriate.

"There is no need to quiet the child," Cresselia noted, having overheard the conversation. "I must admit I am hot under these robes."

"Please, be careful," a man said, breaking out from the crowd. "You might faint." To that Cresselia insisted she was fine and told them all to rest for a while. Then she continued on her way, her silks leaving delicate trails in the pathway like brush strokes.

When she finally reached the main gate – two gigantic, polished cherry wood doors with decorative golden handles – she was welcomed by guards. They were generic in looks, all tall and robust, with weapons at their flanks. They immediately removed their helmets in modesty, then they opened the doors with their combined strength. As she stepped through, the train of her garments was caught by a stray twig; a man assisted her with setting it free. Yet instead of a thanks he was barked at for touching her clothes.

She passed through more gates, each as luxuriant as the previous, until finally reaching the Lunar Palace. Although all the buildings were impressive, they were dull in comparison to that one. It was many floors high and was as silver as a new coin. The structure was sliced in half by a garth, and flowers of virtually every color were found there. She was finally home, although not excited...

The beautiful woman was addressed by her brother, who was currently in pokémon form. "Oh, I was wondering when you would return."

"Is that the appropriate way to greet your own sister?" she chided. "You sound apathetic. Did you not miss me?"

Darkrai sighed, expression devoid in his tone. "We were departed for a short time. I was frankly hoping it would be longer."

Cresselia bit down on her lower lip, a flash of white on red. "I was wrong to have hoped you would improve, brother. Clearly you've always been a brat. It's no wonder I'm the older one."

"I am far from a brat," he quickly retorted. "It is a known fact that the palace has a calm aura when only either of us is present. We are opposites – you are the personification of the full moon, I of the new moon. We are eternally connected yet separated." He floated down the stairway, the soft glow of his eyes peering into those of his sibling. He was strangely handsome even as a pokémon, having an anthropomorphic structure. "That, and we are twins. You are only a few minutes older than I."

She changed the subject. "I wish to meet with you for dinner."

This was new. The siblings never ate together due to their constant quarrels. For the most part their activities were performed away from the other. Schedules were made to maintain serenity at the palace. So it was only in that moment when his lifeless manifestation turned serious. For Cresselia to request his presence meant something of utmost concern. He asked if anyone else would be attending.

A cunning smile fell over her. "I met with Mewtwo last night concerning the... issue. I should have informed him then and there, but alas I forgot: A week ago, I asked Lady Natsume to share her presence with us."

He questioned why plans were made without his knowledge.

"I knew you would otherwise weave your way out of it, Darkrai."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Evening fell over Ougonkoku.

Natsume had just bathed, and now stood feet from the wooden tub. Her long hair appeared of even greater length when wet, and some strands had become tangled. A sigh escaped from her as she wondered why she had not cut it already to save time. Then she ran a comb through the strands, wincing when some hairs snapped from additional pressure. Her gorgeous tresses required ages to dry, and thus there was no point in her putting other jobs on hold. She wrapped a towel around herself, then opened the door to enter her bedroom. Next she knelt down to open a trunk in the corner, revealing a wave of kimonos. They were every color of the rainbow plus more, all with unique designs and accompanying sashes. Tonight she needed one to symbolize her esteemed position. She dug through the silks, her focus on two of them, and chuckled to herself that it must have been ages since they were worn considering they were at the bottom of the pile. Had it truly been that long since she had been in the presence of others besides Mewtwo and her handmaidens? When was the last time, December?

"Ah, here they are," she thought as she gingerly lifted the pair from their depths. They had the faint smell of the trunk. The adult examined the items, weighing the benefits against the other. The first was elegant and feminine, with flowers upon a white through purple gradient. However, the second was a brilliant scarlet with gold chrysanthemums, representing status and confidence.

"Purple is attractive and is the color of mysticism, but I've always been complimented in red," she thought. "I guess there's a reason to my nickname..."

She was affectionately called the Lady Red by Mewtwo when he was in a rare calm mood.

Finally she decided upon the first article of clothing, feeling tonight she wished to exhibit her maidenhood. There would be other events in which the red kimono could be worn. She dressed and tied the sash exceedingly tight.

Next she used cosmetics, applying blush – she was always pale from stress – to her cheeks and scarlet paint to her lips. Dashes of liner ran across her lower eyelids, then she painted her nails a deep crimson. Finally, she was set when placing accessories upon herself.

Traveling to Tsukiakari from her city required weeks by foot. However, Natsume was a renowned psychic: In early childhood she mastered teleportation, one of the most advanced skills. She used this ability as a sudden blue aura coiled around her slender body and she vanished. Moments later, the mistress appeared at the footsteps of the Lunar Palace. A guard was unaware she was coming, and in shock tripped over his own feet at the presentation.

"Pardon me, Lady Natsume!" he plead. "I did not expect your arrival!" He stretched his arms across the ground to show his inferiority.

She snickered. "I'm full of surprises, am I not?" The aura faded from her as she walked to him. She reached out an arm to help him upwards.

"Thank you, miss," he said sheepishly.

"No problem. Now then, could you tell me where Cresselia and Darkrai are? I have been invited for dinner."

The man said, "Oh, I am so foolish! I was told they were having a guest. I will accompany you to the guest area. My shift is about over anyway."

She thanked him.

"And might I note," he added, "That you look ravishing tonight as always. Previously I had always seen you in red, but I feel purple is more suitable for your delicate features."

She smiled, appreciating the warm compliment. There was nothing sexist in his tone, nothing raw with lust. It was the first comment of appropriate nature she received in a long time.

"You have always had an eye for fashion. You know what looks flattering. Personally, though, you could make even just a bag look fantastic."

She laughed at this.

Natsume followed the man through endless corridors toward the banquet hall. She had forgotten how large the Lunar Palace was, realizing it rivaled the one from which she came. Then they went through the cloister, studying the dusky sky over the gardens. The walk was lengthy, and the guard joked they should have teleported.

Finally they reached the banquet hall. Going in through the immense maple door crafted with bronze doorknobs, they traveled across a floor of marble so smooth that it reflected like mirrors under their steps. It was an attractive feature which Natsume thought must have been imported. The hall was immense, easily capable of hosting two dozen individuals. There was a table with candles upon blue mats, clothed chairs, and two gaudily decorated chairs at both ends. Everything was situated before a fireplace and under a trio of crystal chandeliers, giving the room a European feel. Yet what was most amazing was the ceiling – it was only glass, allowing a perfect view of the heavens.

Cresselia was at the left end of the table, radiant as always. She looked upon the other woman with formal, staged delight. "Natsume! How wonderful it is to see you."

Natsume instantly saw through the phoniness, but kept it to herself. "How nice it is to see you as well, my lady. I am honored." She bowed her head.

Cresselia indicted to the guard to leave, and he seemed relieved to be away from his goddess. She was rumored to carry a temper as raging as a firestorm.

Natsume positioned herself in the chair adjacent from Cresselia. They chattered for some time like two friends out for coffee. It brought comfort between them, and Natsume soon discovered she was grateful for having taken up the offer to attend.

Time passed. Darkrai entered with nervousness charging through him. Being in the presence of his sister always made him uneasy.

"About time you showed up," the blonde snapped. "Don't you know we have been here for a half hour or more?"

Darkrai sighed. "Yes, Cresselia. I know. I didn't think Natsume would arrive early."

"Actually, she came on time. You're late."

He ignored her, turning his attention to Natsume. "My apologies for the error," he greeted with sincerity. "I am happy to see you." He looked at her for a moment. "You likely heard this already, but you look lovely tonight."

A smile appeared on her face.

Dinner arrived a few minutes later upon silver trays carried by servants. It opened with miso soup enhanced with seaweed and tofu pieces, then was followed by grilled fish, cooked rice topped with greens and mushrooms, and pickled sea cucumber. There was wine too, although Natsume found the alcohol difficult to appreciate when its taste blended with the dishes.

Natsume finished her plate out of courtesy, but she felt nauseated after due to the volume of food. However, she kept this hidden as to not concern her hosts. Cresselia asked if she enjoyed the meal, to which she nodded.

Darkrai stabbed into his sea cucumber, amused that something which resembled mucus in its natural form was delicious. Besides, it passed time – silence had fallen over the three of them. Noticing the juvenile behavior, Cresselia scolded, "Is your immaturity really that necessary? Why is it that you are an imposing threat when the need be, but you have childish antics at other times?"

"This is out of sheer boredom, dear sister. The conversation died."

"Well, maybe you could liven the conversation if you grew up."

Natsume could only watch as an argument flared between the lunar deities.

Darkrai retaliated in a smooth voice, "I am not immature."

"You were stabbing your food!"

Darkrai said, "As if you don't have bizarre habits? You're the one who insists on traveling in many layers of clothing. The people of Tsukiakari note that you might pass out from heat exhaustion. _That_ is far more foolish than me stabbing a sea cucumber."

"I know what my body can handle."

"Sure you do. When you faint who is it that will come rescue you? It will be me, of course, and only then will you apologize for your stupidity."

"Are you implying that I am a simpleton, Darkrai?"

He smirked. "Perhaps."

Suddenly, a goblet shot across the table at Darkrai. He moved his head ever so slightly to protect himself, then there was the sound of shattering glass against the wall. He looked behind him, examining the crime scene, and slyly stated, "Who is the immature one now? By the way, that landed on the rug in the far corner. Wine is an almost impossible stain to remove, Ducky."

Natsume only stared with her eyes wide open. She wondered if the siblings regularly acted this way to each other, then remembered they typically kept their distances. It made sense.

"Ugh... you frustrate me so much!" Cresselia howled. "You bring me to this point. With everyone else I am composed. I despise that we are related. And don't call me 'Ducky'."

"Aw, don't say that," he toyed. "Besides, if I wasn't around, who else would call you Ducky?"

"DON'T CALL ME 'DUCKY'!" This time a plate flew across the room, but again Darkrai dodged it although it unfortunately met a servant's face who was making her way toward the kitchen. With her head pounding, she maintained her composure as she entered the other room.

By that point, Natsume was more amused than disturbed. It took ever fiber of her being to contain herself from bursting into laughter.

"Anyway, Natsume," Cresselia said, a sudden calm washing over herself. "Would you care for dessert? The servant is getting it this moment."

The other woman shook her head. She answered the meal was enough.

"Well, I'm having dessert," Darkrai piped in. Cresselia shot a dark glare at him, incorrectly assuming he was continuing their quarrel. At this, the servant who had been injured came out from the kitchen with three plates upon a tray. Cresselia quickly noted that only one plate would be needed.

Darkrai was asked to select between shaved ice and no-bake cheesecake. He chose the shaved ice, which was flavored with sweet azuki beans and green tea syrup, then drizzled with condensed milk. It was a traditional summertime treat which he found impossible to resist.

As he savored the dessert, Cresselia brought up the primary topic. She asked Natsume if Mewtwo had informed her about the Liberator. She was granted a stare. The lunar goddess told her what she knew, the same information given to Mewtwo. Natsume did not seem astounded by the date this was all to occur – December 21st, 2012.

Cresselia asked due to curiosity why the date was unsurprising. Natsume responded that she was studying astrology and astronomy. As was such, she was well-aware of the date's significance through analyzing legends throughout many cultures, particularly the Mayans. The goddess applauded her academic mindset.

Darkrai swallowed part of his treat, then said to Natsume, "I can see why you are a celebrated psychic. You study all its fields as if its a science, and practice it like an art."

She thanked them.

With her stomach beginning to settle, Natsume brought her goblet close to take in the vanilla-like scent of the wine. Then she drank, appreciating the robust flavor, then set the vessel down. Only then did she attribute more to the conversation. "It is rumored that the Liberator will bring about a great change."

"He or she will be the end of us," Cresselia responded.

Natsume glanced at her. "It depends on your interpretation. The one factor which is certain is that _everything _will be different." She elaborated them with numerous outcomes, watching their expressions turn from distressed to miserable.

"Please tell us more."

Natsume paused, unsure of what to say. Eventually she noted, "Even I lack the ability to foresee such a dramatic event. Maybe there will be a downfall to the Pantheon which will allow humans to reign supreme again. Maybe there will be an eternal age of peace between pokémon and mankind. Maybe the Liberator is not so much a force but a teacher, leaning us in directions to improve ourselves."

Natsume focused her attention on Darkrai. "I feel a sin churning within you. Wrath." Her arms crossed on the table. "What did you do to the Liberator?"

"...What?" he murmured.

The color faded from Cresselia's face. "What did you do?" she spoke, her voice almost a squeak.

"You did something to the Liberator, but I cannot determine what it is. Did you frighten the child or its mother in a nightmare?"

"_She,_ first of all," Darkrai corrected. "Anyway, to lie to you would be futile, Natsume. You are clever." He finished the shaved ice before continuing, then said in a dry tone, "Yes, I did."

Cresselia almost said something, but was cut off by Natsume. The green-haired woman simply stated, "Attempting to harm the Liberator is ineffective. She must be born, whether we approve of her arrival or not. What becomes of her then is up to us. Remember, Darkrai, there are some events which are even beyond the control of the gods."

With that, she expressed gratitude for the dinner. She passed her dishes to the servant, noted she was feeling tired, and teleported home.

* * *

**Ending Note: **That is probably my last installment of Eclipsed for a long time. I have other tasks to focus on now. Perhaps I will be able to fit in chapters here and there between my homework assignments and studying, but this is doubtful. Please be patient with me during my academic times of the year.

By the way, I know Cresselia isn't based on the duck. I threw that in because it's an inside joke. As for the title of this chapter... well... I thought one "WTF?!" one couldn't pose any harm. Hopefully I'm right.

Take care until we meet again,

Meriah


	9. The Magdalene and the Array

**Meriah's Note:** A NEW CHAPTER! YAY! I wish I had confetti to throw, but alas I can only picture it in my mind.

A _lot_ goes on in this chapter, so pay close attention to every word. There is more action to it than thought. It's also probably the most interesting one I have written so far, yes! :D

I will try to update again sometime next week.

* * *

"_Let he who is without sin… cast the first stone."_

_- John 8:7_

Taruca blushed when Katari approached her and Sutichay. The adolescent, ripen with hormones, carried passionate thoughts for any attractive man. She was known as a flirt, but nothing worse. The doe-eyed girl welcomed Katari with a smile… only for that expression to fade when the tense atmosphere fell upon her.

"Sutichay, we need to talk," he stated, as if unaware of the younger person in their presence.

There was no warmth in his voice, no tenderness, no love. What rippled from him was something Sutichay was unaware he could possess. He _knew_, or at least suspected.

_Her secret was exposed_. It was as if she were Eve, with her sin already known before God.

It was then she wondered if an individual can change their fate; if they can navigate the roads of life with the choice to take crossroads. Had she dictated her past or was she something without conscious action -- a mannequin, perhaps, meant to be viewed but never to speak.

Some say that there are those whose path through their years is as set as the currents of the ocean, the stars in the sky, the eternal promise of moonrise. And there are some events which are predetermined, not chosen. They were conceptualized before even the sun came to be, and they will thrive after it dies. The upcoming birth of the life within Sutichay, her daughter, was one of these. She knew this as she recounted her experience at the Shrine of Mew, when the sacred canal waters showed a protective, blinding white light.

Yet the destiny for the baby was far greater, and that was what was unknown to the Sutichay: A savior of the people; manifestation of change and hope. The Liberator -- warrior, priestess, and holy child.

Certainly she never chose to be the vessel of this most hallowed being. No, fate chose her. And now she would have to face it.

The woman's gaze fell onto her friend, then settled on her lover.

"So let us speak in private," she answered with her head lowered and her eyes devoid of all light. "I will not speak otherwise."

In that moment, the normally bubbly Taruca was tame. Aware that the matter was a private one -- whatever it was -- she stayed behind.

Katari urged Sutichay to follow him. As she did so, unaware of the destination. Only a part of her believed that Mew would guard her from danger. But that part was enough.

* * *

Once away from the other villagers, the man grasped Sutichay from the wrist. She complied with his subliminal request to be passive and mute as they walked further away from the commons. They headed westward to the edge of civilization, and it was then when she realized the destination.

He took her to his property. The yard, far larger than most, waltzed alongside the river far from the other homes. The hut was on stilts for security against the elements and wild pokémon, which was a detail most of the other residences lacked. Yet above all, the hut was spacious enough to have separate rooms, and it was completely walled except for the porch.

Below the hut were three vegetable gardens, a pen for livestock pokémon, and all the equipment necessary for gold working. Looking upon all of these luxuries, it was clear that Katari and his family's occupation as goldsmiths divided them from the poor farming farmers.

Katari grinned. There was an unnerving silence with the exception of sounds from the domesticated pokémon.

"Where is everybody?" Sutichay asked.

Her lover failed to answer. but his grin widened. He knew the men were meeting with another esteemed family to discuss a trade, while the women were purchasing household goods. They were alone.

She added, "Where are the children?"

Something was not right. In the past, Katari's younger siblings welcomed them with giggles and hugs. And still he did not answer her… but his grin widened. Oh yes, he knew they were all out. The boys were receiving an educational lesson; they joined their father to discuss a trade with another esteemed family. Meanwhile, the females were at the market to purchase household goods.

He had not planned to take Sutichay there that day. Perhaps it was determined by fate or the gods. Yet then again, he had not expected to hear what he did earlier…

The timing was perfect.

Color began to diminish from her face. "Katari… we're alone, aren't we?"

"Yes."

"But where -"

Her sentence was cut off with, "Isn't that the way you like it? You found privacy at the Pilpintu Raymi and in our meetings. You craved it. You needed it."

Her brown eyes fell over him. "What is it you want?"

Katari went to his foraging station rather than reply.

And the maiden knew they were alone.

Katari started a fire in a crucible, and a pillar of flames rose before them like a great serpent. The red-orange blaze struck outward as if to bite Sutichay, and she leapt back. And in that fire, brilliant as a solar flare, punishment thrived.

_Katari…_ _snake._

There was power behind his name.

And now it was time for her sin to be corrected.

Katari stood before the almighty element, accompanied by molten gold in the crucible. Gold, the most precious gift to mortals and immortals alike; something which created and destroyed civilizations, and something which was offered to the gods. Yet above all, it was connected to the Mother. Her people revered it as representative of Her, the sun, day and of the light.

The liquid metal glistened, brighter than the sun and a hundred times more fierce. In its seduction was also the promise of justice. And it was then that Sutichay understood. The blood in her veins seemed to melt like that exalted metal…

"At first I had many questions," Katari said, his voice low and dry. "Now I only have one. It will be answered soon enough."

"Listen to me, please. I can explain. I -"

"Shut the fuck up!" he roared. "You must be pregnant. That is why you have been in baggier clothing!"

"Katari…"

He wanted to strike her, but found his voice cooling. "Fine, so you slept with another man, even after I gave my heart to you at the Pilpintu Raymi. Perhaps I could have accepted that." Then his eyes darkened as two empty pools. "But to claim it was _me_ who is responsible… how can I accept that?"

"So it was the shaman who told you," she affirmed. "Certainly that is why he so blatantly worded I am in this condition."

His head shook, and long bangs fell across his face. "No, it was not him. Someone else. Anyway, the point still stands that you set me up. You associated me with a sin I did not commit. And why, because you are insecure? Because you likely bed with all men? Am I right, Sutichay, am I? Is that why it took you _so long_ to accept a partner at the festival?"

She was at a loss for words.

He continued with his insults; words of steel cutting her. Then he finally said in his exhausted state, "Just tell me who the father really is."

She did.

…And she found a rage swirling through him that she never felt in anyone, something hellish, something brutal. In him there was only malice.

Fear rose in Sutichay, primal as that of an animal, the kind when a bird finds itself in the shadow of a serpent. She concealed it, but the man saw through her regardless. She shuddered, felt the cold sweat trickle down her spin, and made herself like the fog which crosses between two planes of reality.

She dissociated.

As if separated by incalculable miles, she was loosely aware of the man by the crucible. He was saying something loud, but she was too far gone to make out the words. Only his vicious tone reached her in that dreamscape. She drifted further away.

She should not have told him. Of course she would be branded a liar. But now all she craved was an ending of this chapter in her life. And she should not have opened herself up to this man; she knew it. It was thoughtless to let herself fall for him, this man of so much prestige and influence and popularity. Now her child would suffer the consequences… it was all her fault.

That voice… she failed to hear it, really, but she could _feel_ it. It coiled itself around her, ready to strike, and she lacked the ability to protect herself and her daughter.

_Damn it… damn it all, _she thought, her mind still adrift. _I need to bring myself back. I can't… I can't be like this right now._

There was one reason she continued onward in that world, for her child. That was the love she harbored. She pictured her looking down upon her daughter at birth, her eyes like her own, her smile and laughter all that was needed.

Sometimes love can act as a force unlike any other. She felt it churn within her, and what her strength could not achieve, love did. It would not let her die then.

But she did dissociate more. That was all she had to survive.

She tried to hit him, but he was too fast. He covered her mouth, silencing her to the world, and grabbed her with nails to leave jagged marks in her skin. Perhaps courage had been her downfall… for in that she had every reason to be afraid.

Sutichay was pushed to the ground. Her face met dust and rock. Before she could react -- roll away, run, whatever -- pain seared deep through her like a universe collapsing within itself. It scorched through flesh, down through blood and into bone, leaving the region black. He had dumped molten gold onto her thigh, and now the skin had literally _melted_. It was the purifying odor of flesh which entered her nostrils as sickness came over her.

She must have screamed to highlight that pain, to break through the reality and the one where her mind languished. She must have released a cry to the gods…

They were linked together in this game, this story of survival for the fittest. But she would somehow come out as the victor; she had come too far.

And then something dawned in her. She… she only imagined what just happened?! Yet the pain felt so realistic, so _authentic_. Was it her soul's way of breaking the mind out of that detached state?

_What the fuck just happened?! _she thought.

Then what she discovered to be genuine were the shackles which somehow had met her wrists. The device was made of gold, meant to symbolize punishment in the name of Mew, which was customary of her people.

_I hate dissociation. Why must I be inflicted with such a hellish thing?!_

And she said to him, "I never lied to you, Katari… you son of a bitch."

* * *

It was time.

Retribution for her evil-doing lurked within the souls of the villagers, if she was indeed accountable. Their words pierced through the advancing twilight onto her, and even the forest listened. She realized she was truly endangered now… on the brink of life and death and all things in-between.

The shadows of her fellow people traveled across the ground. It was their hatred; it felt all over her body, gnawed at her inner being, and burned her mind like dry leaves. She viewed herself in hundreds of eyes -- and looked upon something terrified. She was in the gazes of her parents, siblings, friends, and her beloved Katari, and it was too much. She was incapable of seeing herself - something shackled like a rabid wild pokemon - and her head sank.

As Katari dragged her through the settlement, they watched her from where the light met the darkness, waiting her for her like starved beasts. She had toyed with them and the fiber of their morality.

Perhaps she could have won this…

Yet it seemed futile now.

For many moons they craved blood on their hands. They wanted a death from human means, something to defy disease and all natural things. Something to counter the gods to ensure mankind still had substance in the world.

They waited long, and they wanted victory.

The shadows were damning her. The shadows were overtaking her.

She would be checked to verify her pregnancy, but everyone knew the truth. They were drunken by the entertainment of ending the woman's years.

Sutichay would die in the night -- that realm governed by the unknown, illustrated by moonlight and the screams of prey; the time in which Mew was said to be absent.

Katari pushed her, and her weakened body fell against the dirt below to stain her skin and clothes. Still bound, she raised herself by the knees, still bright in spirit.

The apprentice declared, "Take her to the shrine. If she is proven to be an adulteress, may at least her shed blood be purified by the holy waters." His arms widened as if he could capture the sky as he added, "It is what the Goddess would desire."

Only then did Sutichay lift her head, and what came from her was a bawl: "How would you know what She wants?! You know nothing!"

He smirked, which increased her rage.

And she looked upon him, but her reflection now was of a powerful woman. She roared, "The Great Mother desires life. That is why She resides in the most purest of water -- it represents the promise to sustain all living things!"

"This from the whore…" he laughed to the audience.

"The Great Mother rules over Light, the sun, all things which give and continue life. And I… I think she may mourn that we are not immortal like her."

The apprentice demanded that she be silent as her philosophies were blasphemy. He turned to his villagers, those rows of peasants and the wealthy, and suddenly he felt the extent of his supremacy. He was like a king, and had mastered his religious education. This event, this night, was his testament to observing the laws and commandments. Yet even more so, it was his test to determine if the time had come for him to be the new shaman -- the intermediary between mankind and the divine. Surely the outcome was predetermined.

In the background the shaman lifted his staff high to indicate the start of the test. The younger man grinned. Oh yes, how he had ached for this moment.

"Let her status be made known!" he declared. "Bring in the dog!"

A growlithe came through the crowd by his owner's side. He was specially trained to assist in the medical arts; his keen sense of smell could finalize if Sutichay was with child. The fire canid sniffed her and immediately flagged his tail. Indeed, he was well trained.

And that was enough for the people.

Then Katari spoke aloud of who Sutichay claimed was the father. There was _no way _that could be true!

The apprentice ordered, "Take her to the shrine!"

Any form of punishment was outlawed at the Shrine of Mew, especially if it could bring about death. Despite this, the apprentice seared with power; any instruction was to be followed without question.

Some men seized Sutichay like the crazed beasts they were. She was their meat, their satisfaction for blood. She was their toy. These men, who she had grown up with and came to trust, were leading her to a final breath. In shackles she was dragged across a blackened landscape, her screams quieted by their threats and violence.

Her knees chaffed against the stone stairway of the temple, but the pain was no worse than her numbing arms. It was as if her own life energy was evaporating from her veins. She was so weak in body; like porcelain, she was bound to break. No… she was not meant to suffer, to be under the control of the savage. They may have had her in the flesh, but her mind and soul were unbound and free like a great eagle.

And so she pitied them, these fools deluded by a megalomanic. Her emotion prowled on the edge of her world, invading her from all angles.

She was dragged to the top level of the temple, across the path to the altar. It was as if she were the woman brought before the Pharisees and scribes. Like her, she was nothing more than a whore to be stoned in honor of the law. She was their own Magdalene.

Then there was a blade in the hands of the apprentice, and he spoke of death being her final sentence. It was a ceremony of blood, flesh and sinew; the screams of a woman to shudder through all who may lavish in sin and lie. It was an ancient custom rarely enacted upon out of fear… for would Mew truly approve of such behavior?

Yet the apprentice was so certain of himself and of Mew's thoughts, and so the villagers found themselves as bystanders.

Sutichay looked at no one. She only prayed.

She pictured the oncoming scene of blood, a liquid so moist and warm, cascading down her frame and blending with the canal waters. It would form a scarlet cloud, polluting the holiness of the sanctuary, with her flesh and bone to follow.

Driven by instinct, the maiden screamed, thrashed, and dug her nails into the skin of a man. But the joined force of four burly men held her down while Katari looked on with apathy coursing from him. Her family and Taruca seemed anguished, although ensnared by the laws of their culture.

Screams ripped through her, vibrating off the stone walls, and shattered against the floor like glass. The vicinity was scorched by her screams, one of torment so basic and primeval.

She imagined the apprentice drawing the knife along her, slicing through skin and muscle, kissing bone. It was dulled, rusty, and painted by the blood of past victims -- for it was a blade used in all offenses, never once cleaned.

There is nothing worse than when the body is carved like meat, disregarding of the soul still beating within it. To be bound by metal, rope or any object, able to do nothing as it is damaged… can anything be worse? Perhaps only one thing: The torture from the commoners in the form of stoning.

Then the body is discarded, no longer useful, as if it was mere carrion. And then it is no longer entwined with the soul for they are eternally separated.

She awaited these punishments, these two things that would be felt simultaneously.

Suddenly, the wind came, and trees scraped against a black sky until lightning tore through the clouds with thunder to echo her screams. A rain flayed the earth below, violent and primordial. The bolts shattered against the earth all around the people, blocking them from seeking shelter.

Then a great array of light, more brilliant than the birth or death of a star, came down from the heavens and onto Sutichay. It embraced her like a bird shelters her young, guarding her from the wrath of nature. And in that great light all the memories of life itself flowed through her, all history of the planet was her own. The limitless streams of creation were like water through her body, this vessel of the Liberator.

It was a sunbeam to conquer the blackness.

The energies of life pulsed in her like waves -- the continual heartbeats of the earth.

She heard sounds from all directions and from only the center. It was a choir of voices from all pokémon and humans across every era. She heard their many tongues, the cries of suffering, the laughter of joy. Yet the voices did not harm her; they were a gathering of music.

The prophecy was fulfilled. Mew had saved her.

Sutichay's villagers shielded themselves with their arms from the storm, but their gazes were set on the phenomenon of sunlight in the darkness. Some cried she was a sorceress or demon, while others declared she was a gift of heaven. The young woman turned her attention to Katari to find he was astounded. They were drawn together, these two beings of the Light, whether they were or were not in love.

He wanted to go to her and so he stood, but the array of light grew more intense as if to warn him to keep a distance. He obeyed.

"She is a witch, I tell you. She is evil!" the apprentice shouted, his voice rumbling over the others. He grabbed a large stone with a wild flame in his eyes, ready to cast it at her. "She must die… I'll kill her myself!"

Subsequently, another lightning bolt slashed through the atmosphere, one as magnificent as life, death, all things in between. It came accompanied by a thunder to silence the heavenly and earthly realms, then shattered inches from him. And in that electricity came a blue entity which commanded to him, _Do not harm her, lest karma find you._

It was Azelf, which stared into him with orbs ancient as the dawn of time. He added: _And who are you, human, to condemn another being of your kind? You are the filthiest here, for you are a murderer in spirit._

Lighting continued to pound the earth, shaking it with an unfathomable rage. The villagers pled for safety, their tears like the rain that soaked them. Yet the anger from the God of Will exceeded that of the elements.

The apprentice met those ancient eyes, if only for those moments of his display of power... and saw himself for who he truly was. He saw his own eyes mirroring back at him as a portal into his subconscious. He was apathetic to study them prior to then, but they were gray as the ash and stone of his being. There was nothing to them.

Azelf heralded before the crowd: _Who among you are free of sin? Judge not the actions of this woman, for we gods know of your intentions, your actions, your evils! You shall receive justice before the presence of my Father!_

* * *

**Ending note:** Originally it was my intention to extend this chapter, but I think I made a good cut-off here.

My fiancé feels I should have titled this "The Whorish Slutbag and the Agricultural Gnome". He said, "It's a beautiful title. Even more beautiful than the story itself."

Also, I changed something here. At first the sunbeam was supposed to break through gray clouds during the day, but I thought it would be more effective to have the phenomenon at night. I hope it illustrates Mew's power.

To ease confusion, yes, Mew caused the lightning storm and the sunbeam. Azelf simply showed up during it.

By the way, I love the Lake Trio. I watched the episode "Agnome, Yuxie, Emrit!" (DP episode 151; series episode 620), and oh my, they have the cutest voices. Seriously. Especially when Agnome/Azelf appeared from a portal between dimensions, stretched and yawned… so adorable ^^;; I recommend that you watch it. I found it subtitled!

One more thing: I do NOT believe Mary Magdalene was the adulteress in John 8:2-11. If you read the passage there is nothing which ever indicates they were the same person. (And actually, I have a very deep veneration for Mary Magdalene, having read _The Gnostic Gospels _far before _The Da Vinci _Code was popularized). But regardless, I am going for artistic license here. Please don't take offense…

No, wait, I changed my mind. Here's the last thing:

ARCEUS: hoominz shall reseeve justis lol lol!!111oneone!1111!!! hey asl???


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